


Dream a Little Dream

by CannibalKats



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 07:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12031425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Yoosung thinks he's going over to Seven and Sari's for his usual movie night, little does her know Sari has something a little more intimate planned.  When Sari tells the other members of the RFA about their evening Yoosung finds himself pursued on all sides, and he's not exactly opposed to it.





	1. Sari/MC

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost pure smut. Completely self indulgent. MC is Sari, post Seven route/secret endings so spoilers I guess.

Yoosung isn’t sure how he got here. Not in Sari’s bedroom, that wasn’t the strange part.  It wasn’t unusual to end up laid out on Sari’s bed, Seven sandwiched between them while they watch a film, or Sari’s head pillowed on his belly while they played some game and laughed about whatever childish argument the twins were having.

What confused him was Sari, completely sober because she never drank when her ex-boyfriend was home, draped across his lap with her head tucked under his chin and her fingers dancing along his chest.  Yoosung has been here for a few hours trying to decide if she was wearing a nightgown or a sundress and too shy to ask while Sari’s choice in films became more and more risque, her topics of conversation more and more intimate, her hands increasingly bold.

Sari and Seven had broken up shortly after Saeran had come home from the hospital, but she’d still moved into the bunker, still stood too close to him during evenings out, everyone knew they still slept together.  Yet here she was mouth full up with confessions, hands demanding.

She presses a kiss between his ear and his jaw and smirks up at him, his hands fluttering in the sheets at his side, her legs are draped across his lap and he hopes she can’t feel how hard he is right now.

“Look how cute you are,” she coos.  “You still haven’t kissed anyone huh?”

“ _ God _ , Sari,” he whines falling back against the pillows on her bed and covering his face.

“It’s not a big deal Yoosung,” she whispers and her legs adjust.

He breathes a sigh of relief.  “I’m 21 Sari, it kind of is.”

The the bed shifts and his breath catches in his throat as she tosses a leg over him and settles back on his thighs.  He peaks out at her behind his fingers, her smile is soft, kind, but there’s something almost feral in her eyes. She trails her fingers along the tops of his thighs, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

They were just going to watch movies tonight so he’d worn sleep pants rather than get dressed. There’s no way she can’t tell that he’s turned on right now, not with the way her weight had pulled the thin fabric taut across his hips.  Her fingers dance just past where his hardon is trapped and then up under the hem of his shirt.

She teases the soft skin above the waist of his pants and it’s all he can to do control his breathing, he lets out a shaky breath.  Her finger trail softly up his sides and he can hear her laugh quietly.  Not mean spirited, not the teasing laugh he hears when she’s helping Seven with some prank.  Just soft, endeared laughter.  

She giggles as she leans forward and pushes his hands away to rest her forehead against his. She rubs her nose along his and he can feel his shoulder dip as she rests her weight on an elbow, stroking his cheek with the thumb of her free hand. 

“Hey,” she coos, breath ghosting across his lips and he opens his eyes cautiously. “Did you ever want to kiss  _ me _ , Yoosung?”

His eyes dip to her lips before he forces himself to glance away. “M-maybe,” he whispers.

She giggles again, crawls a little farther up his body, settles across his hips and shifts her weight.  He does his best to stifle a groan, to keep his hips from bucking against her.

“I-it was before Seven though,” he says quickly to fill the silence, distract her from whatever thoughts were making her  _ look _ at him like that.

“You know that’s not a thing anymore, Yoosung,” she says softly letting her weight drop so that her chest is pressed against his and her face is tucked into his neck.

“I, uh,” he tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the soft tease of her tongue along his neck but his dick twitches and she shifts her hips. “It’s just that you don’t  _ seem _ different, you know,  _ together _ ?”

Sari shifts then, she sits up, her face is serious when she frowns down at him. “Yoosung, do you  _ want _ to kiss me?”

He tries to sit up but she puts a hand on his chest and holds him there. “Sari, I uh,” he blushes again.

“I can call him in here if you want to be sure you’re not breaking some kind of stupid bro-code but for god’s sake Zen didn’t even have this much issue.”

“Z-Zen?” Yoosung manages to stammer and he tries to sit up, a second hand bracing on his chest to hold him down.

Sari smirks at him. “Mmhm.”

“Y-you’ve been with Zen?” He stammers, cheeks flushed red.

“A few times,” she shrugs, like she’s talking about having lunch. “You’re the last slot on my punch card Yoosung.”

“I-What?!”

Her face falls a little. “I mean,” her confidence waivers, “I guess, maybe I misread you?  I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You’ve, you’ve slept with all of them?” He asks quietly, and the thought doesn’t turn him off.

The hands on his chest drop to her sides and she slides back so sit over his thighs but he doesn’t attempt to sit up.  She nods, “Everyone but Saeran, for obvious reasons.”

“Because he’s Seven’s brother,” Yoosung nods and she chuckles.

“Because he’s  _ gay _ ,” she snorts.

“Oh.”

She leans forward over him, her smile sweeter somehow, and brushes her nose against his again. “So Yoosung Kim,” she coos, “do you still want to kiss me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.  She wastes no time pressing her lips to his, starting out with quick soft pecks, pulling away to smile at him between each one.  Yoosung rests his hands on her hips, and she sucks his bottom lip between hers.  When she pulls away he finds himself trying to follow and she giggles a little, pressing him into the mattress and teasing his mouth open with her tongue.

She twists her hands in his tshirt and pulls him up with her this time. Tongue lapping into his mouth and drawing his own out. He moans when her hips shift against him and her tongue fucks into his mouth.  Her hand twists into his hair and his hips jerk when she pulls his head back.

“I-I’m sorry,” he pants, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and spit covered. “W-was it bad?”

Sari rests her forehead against his and smiles. “No,” she says, her voice breathless.  

She wraps her legs around his waist, kisses the tip of his nose and locks eyes with him as she rolls her hips against him, her mouth trailing wet open mouth kisses down his neck.  Yoosung growls low in his throat as she draws her tongue across his adam’s apple.

With an unfamiliar confidence Yoosung finds himself gripping Sari tight against him and flipping her over as the bed protests loudly.  She squeals and giggles and drags him down to kiss her again, sucking on his tongue as it slips into her mouth and knotting her fingers in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

“ _ Yoosung,” _ She whimpers as he mimics her and presses kisses down the column of her neck, laving at her collarbone and, emboldened by her moans, he continues to suck and lick and kiss his way between her breasts.

Her legs tighten around his waist and he has to pause when she rolls her hips against him with another moan of his name.

“S-Sari,” he whispers, breathing jagged, face pressed into her chest. “I-hah-I, I w-want-”

She shoves gently at his shoulders until he looks up at her, pupils blown wide with lust, her swollen bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “Whatever you want, Yoosung,  _ please, _ ” she breathes.

“I,” he starts, and pushes himself up.  She looks lovely below him, everything he’s ever dreamed of really, her skirt rucked up, the neckline of her dress twisted, the lace of her bra exposed, chest heaving, cheeks pink, and she’s looking at him expectantly, she wants  _ him _ .  She could have Seven, or Jumin, or  _ Zen _ and she wants  _ him _ . “W-whatever?” he whispers reverently, one hand trailing up her thigh, pushing the thin fabric up even farther, “y-you’re sure?”

The word catches in his throat as he pushes the skirt farther up her hips, revealing only dark curls and more soft skin.  She’s smiling nervously when he finally tears his eyes away. She nods, pushes herself up on her elbows and unclasps her bra.

“A-anything?” He sighs, watching as she drops the bra off the edge of the bed, the hint of a nipple peeking out from beneath the dark fabric.

“Mmhm,” she nods with a raised eyebrow.

He considers that he may appear over eager as he shoves at her nightgown and she smiles at him before tugging it over her head.  He’s settling himself between her thighs when she tugs at his tshirt and he glances up at her, completely naked, spread out before him.

He forgets, for a moment, what it is he’d wanted to do beside  _ look _ at her. Her round dimpled hips, her soft belly with its sparse collection of stretch marks, her round breasts that fall slightly to the side, dimples, scars, every inch of her perfect. Every crease, every roll, every flaw perfection. It seems sacrilegious to even consider touching her.

Then she clears her throat, and there’s a nervous twitch to her mouth before she reaches to cover herself. “Yoosung,” she says softly.

He reaches for her hands. “Please don’t.”

Yoosung pushes her hands away, holds them at her sides.  He presses a kiss to her sternum, another to her ribs, to her navel.  He feels the muscles of her belly tense up when his eyelashes tickle her skin and he glances up at her.

“Everything alright?” She asks, shaking the hand on her wrist away and running her fingers through his hair.

He swallows, inhales, “I- you’re-  _ wow _ .”

“Wow?” She giggles tracing his jaw with her thumb when he looks up at her, eyes wide.

He nods, he doesn’t know what else to say.  He’s never seen anyone naked up close.  Never imagined he’d be so lucky to see  _ her _ like this.

“This is unfair,” she pouts as he presses fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs. “At least take your shirt off Yoosung.”

The heat rises in his cheeks and he freezes.  She pushes herself up and he backs up, nervous again, self conscious as she reaches for the hem of his shirt and tugs it up over his head.

Sari leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose, tangles her fingers in his hair and covers his mouth with a kiss.  He lets her draw his tongue into her mouth, traces her teeth, laps at her tongue in slow languid strokes until it’s her moaning into _ his  _ mouth.

He runs a hand from her hip to her breast and hesitates for a moment. He brushes the calloused palm of his hand over her nipple before cupping it properly, squeezing gently.

“I don’t mean to rush you,” she says softly, lips brushing his ear, “but Saeyoung is home and you  _ know _ he never knocks.”

Yoosung freezes, “Y-you said-”

“No,” she coos, “I don’t mean- I just thought you might not want him to have that kind of, you know,” her tongue darts out to trace his ear. “Just a warning.”

Her hands find the tie on his pants, she loosens the drawstring and slips her hand past the waistband, brushes her fingers along his length and dips her tongue into the hollow of his collarbone.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Yoosung,” she reminds him.

“I w-hng, I want to,” he gasps, hips bucking into her hand and she smiles against his throat. “Please Sari I want, hah, I want-”

She nips at the skin of his neck and settles back on her elbows dropping her knees to either side of him. “What do you want puppy?”

He blushes deeply, and chews on his lip, runs a hand along the inside of her thigh stopping as his fingers brush curls. “I want to, to t-taste you?”

She smiles, giggles softly when it comes out like a question. “Taste me hmm?  That’s a little advanced Puppy.”

“I’m a quick study,” Yoosung says.  His jaw set stubbornly as he bends to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

He traces his thumb along her folds, dipping between to brush against her clit. She hums and wiggles her hips, “Nervous?”

“N-no,” he says and dips his head to press his tongue between ler labia, slowly drawing it along her slit.  He presses lips to her clit, sucking gently, trying to remember what he’d read.  Mimicking the way they’d kissed, with his nose pressed into soft curls.

Her thighs flex and her hips twitch, and when he looks up her head is thrown back.  He’s smiling wide and proud when she lifts her head to look at him. 

“Ok,” she says a little breathless, “m-maybe you might have an idea what you’re doing.”

“It’s good?” He asks and his smile falters a little.

“Mmhmm, yes, keep doing that,” Sari lays back when he presses another kiss to her clit, hips rolling up against his mouth when he traces the flesh around the swollen bud. “U-use your f-fingers too,” she stammers.

She groans, low and drawn out when he slips a finger inside her.  Awkward at first while he sucks on her clit.  He marvels at the way her walls flex around the digit, presses his hips into the mattress when he thinks about how she’ll feel tightening around his cock.  The way she fights to keep from rolling her hips against his face.

The way she pleads for  _ One more , please god _ .

He tries to focus on the things he’d read, late at night, guides on pleasing people with vaginas, on finding the gspot.  Tries to think about anything besides how hard he is, how warm, and wet and tight she is.  Tries to focus on the task at hand and not the sounds spilling past her lips.

God she’s so loud, and Seven was home, Saeran too, he should probably ask her to be quiet but he doesn’t want those sounds to stop. 

Her hands find his hair and suddenly she holding him in place, broken praises spilling from her lips as she grinds against him, a broken chorus of  _ yes, right there, don’t stop,  _ and drawn out  _ fuck _ ’s pour out of her and he does his best to keep up with her as he feels her tighten around his fingers, unable to do much more than curl and scissor the digits until her hips stutter and the hands in his hair loosen.

He presses her hips to the bed, sucks lightly on her clit and curls his fingers inside her as she cries out, whimpers, and then finally curses gently and pushes at his face.

She blushes when he looks up, wiping his chin with his hand.  Sari runs her hands through her hair and squeezes her eyes shut, “I take back anything I might have said,” she let’s out a breath, “where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I just  _ read _ you know?”

“You just read,” she snorts, sitting up pulling him into another kiss, tasting herself on his lips.  “What else have you  _ read _ , Yoosung Kim?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, blushing and covering his face.

He feels her warmth move away from him for a moment, hears a rustling near by and then she’s pulling his hands away, kissing him again, crawling into his lap and pushing him back into the spot where she’d been laying.

She nudges his head to the side and sinks her teeth into his neck, sucking and lapping at the skin trapped between her teeth until Yoosung moans. She smiles, lips still pressed to the bruise forming on his neck and moves on, tongue tracing the lines of his throat, sinking her teeth into soft flesh experimentally as she goes.

She brushes a thumb over his nipple, bending to draw her tongue over the stiff peak when he arches into her touch and settles down over his hips. He groans as she shifts her weight and smirks at him.

“Feeling a little restrained?” she asks, her voice low as she slips further down his body, keeping his legs trapped beneath her as she bends to press a kiss to his navel.  She hooks her fingers into the waist of his sleep pants and drags them down his hips.

Yoosung sucks in a breath and covers his face with his arm.

“Oh my god Yoosung,” she giggles tracing the outline of his hardon through his boxers, “are you shy  _ now _ ?”

“ _ Sari _ ,” he whines, and then gasps as she mouths at his cock through the thin fabric of his value pack boxers.

Sari takes that as her cue, she grasps the waist of his boxers and yanks them down with a flourish.  Slipping off his legs to pull them all the way down his legs and toss them off the bed.

“Finally,” she giggles pressing his thighs back down and throwing one leg over his, “my turn.”

She bends, takes him in her hand swipes her thumb through the precum pearling on the tip of his dick and drags it down the length before giving him a proper stroke.  

“Y-your  _ turn _ ?” Yoosung whimpers.

She does it again, this time she smiles at him dipping her head to lap at his tip when his hips buck into her fist. “To taste you.”

“N-no,” he stammers, trying to pull his legs free, to scramble farther up the bed.

“What?”

“You don’t have t-to do  _ that _ ,” he almost shouts.

She laughs, “Yoosung, I don’t mind.”

But he shakes his head and tugs on her arm pulling her up to kiss him, “You don’t  _ have _ to,” he pants when she pulls back to frown at him, “I don’t need you to.”

She smiles softly at him, presses a kiss to each of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Do you  _ want  _ me to?”

Yoosung doesn’t speak, instead his hands find her breasts, he shakes his head as he presses a kiss to her throat, pulls her beneath him.  He presses soft kisses to her neck, her chest, her shoulders, until she’s laid back on the bed giggling and sighing, tangling her hands in his hair. She tugs gently and he moans softly, face pressed between her breasts before he looks up at her.

She drops one hand, whispers his name, whispers praises, and tangles her fingers with his. Something small is pressed between their palms before she lets go, leaving him holding a condom and staring down at his hand.

“Unless you don’t want to,” she says softly, watching his face.  

Yoosung chews the inside of his cheek and fidgets with the foil packet in his hand. She raises herself up on her elbows and squeezes his hips with her thighs.

“It’s fine if you don’t, we can kiss more, or we can stop,” she covers his hand on her hip with her own, “you’re in control, Yoosung.”

“I don’t want to stop,” he says firmly, and she watches the blush spread across his chest and into his cheeks, “I j-just don’t, I’m not,” his fist closes around the condom.

Sari sits up, slips the condom from his hand and kisses his chest, soft lips ghost over his collar bone, teeth nip at his neck and she presses her lips to his ear.  Her breath is warm when she whispers “I can do it.”

He settles back on his heels and watches delicate fingers tear the package, she strokes him gently.  Her dark eyes trained on his face as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, before she rolls the condom down his length.  His breath catches in his throat when she continues to stroke, twisting her wrist, adjusting her grip.

She wraps her legs around his waist, fist working between them as she sucks his earlobe between her teeth.  Yoosung growls low in his throat, he dips his tongue into the hollow of her collarbone and presses her back down. His hand trails down her back to squeeze the soft curve of her ass.

Sari’s hands slip around his back and she digs her nails into his shoulderblades.  She rolls her hips, grinds against his hardon and whimpers.

“Y-you’re sure,” he asks, one hand braced on her hip as he lines himself up, not quite pressing into her.

She rolls her hips again, digs her heels into his ass trying to urge him forward, “Please Yoosung,” she begs, “fuck me.”

He’s eager, fucking into her in one swift movement and freezing, moan stuck in his throat.  He starts to apologize, to thank her, tries to form a coherent thought as he feels her flex against him, listens to her groan.  He watches her hips as they shift and twitch while she tries not to rush him.

She cups his face with one hand, thumb brushing his cheek. “Are you ok?” Her voice is husky, the words are carefully pronounced like she has to focus overly hard on each syllable.

He swallows and nods. 

“Do you want to move?” her hand slips into his hair, fingers brushing behind his ear.  She smiles up at him and she ruffles his hair.

He leans into her hand, nods again and dips his head to watch as he draws himself back. He holds her hip tight in one hand and lets out a ragged breath as he runs the other over the curve of her thigh to drag his thumb over her clit. She whines and for a brief moment his vision goes white and he freezes as her hips buck up pulling him into her.

He falls forward, his hand still trapped between them as he tries to focus on dragging his tongue along her sternum, on working her clit between his thumb and finger, on the way she moans, the way she throws her head back.  He tries to focus on the way she reacts to him, the things he’d read to prepare for this moment.  Tries to focus on anything but the way she feels around him, hot and wet and tight.  Tries to focus on anything but coiling heat in his belly, anything but how close he is right now.

How afraid he is of ruining it.

“Y-Yoosung,” she pants, one hand tangled in his hair the other clutching at his shoulder.  “Hng, g-god, Yoosung,” she whines rolls her hips against him.

He forgets for a moment how close he is as she whimpers.  He pulls his hand from between them and braces himself on his arms, forehead pressed to her sternum as he growls between her breasts, drawing out and slamming back into her.

Her curses, her shouts of his name and moans of  _ Good Boy _ ,  _ right there, oh God _ , urge him on until her hands slip down his back, nails digging into his the meat of his ass.  Her legs tighten around his thighs and he freezes.  He looks up at her, her eyes lidded, a thin sheen of sweat covers her and she looks like she's glowing.

“I’m so close,” she whines holding him tight against her and rolling her hips.  “P-please, don’t you want to cum too?”

He takes a deep shuddering breath.  _  God _ he wants to, he’s almost surprised he hasn’t yet but Yoosung Kim is nothing if not eager to please.  Nothing if not an overachiever and in this moment he wants nothing more than to hang on, to make her cum at least two more times.

“I, mmng, Sari I,” he stammers, grits his teeth and pushes himself back. “N-not yet, I want to m-make you-”

Her moan cuts him off as his thumb draws circles around her clit.  He pulls out of her slowly, chewing on his lip as he watches his cock, slick with her, slip from between her folds.

Sari whimpers at the loss, her hips working up at nothing for a moment before he slips his fingers inside of her, bends to lap at her swollen bud.

“Jesus Christ Yoosung,” she cries, her fingers tugging hard at his hair, words falling out of her mouth, senseless, tumbling together until there’s only broken sounds, whimpers, his name.

She tightens around his fingers as he sucks at her clit, working her through her release.  Ignorant of how loud she’s being.  

Oblivious to the door that slips open behind him as he presses kisses up her soft belly.  Blind to the hand she lifts and waves in a frantic shooing motion.  He doesn’t notice the frustrated set to her jaw or the way her eyebrows knit together as he trails kisses over her chest, up her neck.

Yoosung doesn’t notice they’re not alone until he settles back on his heels and readies himself to enter her again.  Not until big hands settle on his hips, denim brushing against his bare ass, and his best friend’s amused whistle sounds near his ear.

“I guess I lost that bet,” Seven chuckles, resting his chin on Yoosung’s shoulder.

“W-what,” Yoosung stammers.

Sari raises up on her elbows to glare at Seven. “Get out.”

Seven’s hands slip from his hips, he drags his palms over Yoosung’s belly, ghosts his fingers over the smaller man’s nipples and Yoosung finds himself pressing back against him. “Do  _ you _ want me to leave,  _ Puppy _ .”

Yoosung knows if he could  _ see _ him he’d be smirking but there’s something dark in his best friend’s voice.  Something warm and promising and Yoosung can’t help the soft whimper when Seven’s tongue darts out to trace his ear.

He blushes and forces himself to look at Sari.  She’s settled back against the pillows, a small smile lights her face as she tucks her hands behind her head. “I guess this makes us even Saeyoung.”

“I, uh I don’t,  _ what _ ?” He manages to stammer as Seven’s teeth graze his neck.

“I don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Seven coos, hands trailing back down over Yoosung’s abdomen, stilling at his thighs, thumbs touching above his cock and Yoosung is surprised to realize he  _ wants _ Seven to touch him.

He looks to Sari and she nods sitting up to circle his nipples with her tongue, “He can stay if you want him to.”

Yoosung swallows and nods.

Seven makes a small sound of triumph and Yoosung let’s himself look back as his best friend takes a quick step away from him.  He whimpers as Sari strokes him, watching Seven take off his sweater, and push his sleeves up his arms.  He tries not groan as Seven closes the distance between them, as Sari sucks the tip of his dick between her plush lips.

Sevens arms wrap around his chest and Yoosung can feel him hard behind his jeans as he presses himself flush against him.  Seven takes his chin in one hand pulling him back harshly to cover his mouth in a rough kiss as he moves to grasp his cock.

“Sari, Princess,” Seven rasps, his hand working his best friend’s cock, “why don’t you turn around and I’ll teach our Puppy how to fuck you.”

Sari nods and Yoosung’s mouth feels dry as he watches her shift to lay on her belly then raise herself to her hands and knees.  She shifts her legs wide beneath her, shimmies back down the bed closer to them and cocks her hips towards them.

Seven hums appreciatively against Yoosung’s throat.  He bullies Yoosung forward until he can kneel on the bed behind him and nips at the flesh just below his ear.  His lips brush Yoosung’s ear when he speaks.  “Look at her, Pup,” Yoosung swallows hard as Seven pulls him back flush against him, grinding his hardon between Yoosung’s cheeks, “isn’t she fucking beautiful?”

Yoosung let’s his head fall back against Seven’s shoulder, big fingers flex around his dick and he can’t help moaning when he fucks into his fist. “Mmhng, y-yes, she’s perfect,” he pants.

“Mmm,” Seven hums, he peppers kisses along Yoosung’s jaw. “Sari,  _ Jagi _ ,” he coos, forcing Yoosung to fuck his hand if he wants to keep going, “why don’t you show me where you want him?”

She glances over her shoulder, her big eyes dark as she shifts her weight and bites her lip.  One hand slips between her legs and Yoosung’s heart is in his throat as she spreads her herself open, slips her finger through wet folds.  She teases a digit over the tight pucker of her asshole and smirks when Seven lets out an audible groan before shaking her head, “Sorry baby, I don’t think he’s ready for that yet.”

_ Yet _ , Yoosung’s head spins with the implications.  Not just the thought of pressing himself into her ass but that this could happen again.  Him and Sari, and even Seven.  Yoosung whimpers as he watches her dip a finger into herself, looking over her shoulder, past him to Seven.

“Please Saeyoung,” she begs.

He grinds himself into Yoosung again, groaning as he sinks his teeth into Yoosung’s shoulder and urges him forward.  There’s something impossibly hot about Seven fully clothed, pressed flush against him guiding him into Sari.  Something that makes the coiling spring in his belly tighter than it should be as his friend’s teeth bruise his shoulder, as he mumbles praises.

There’s something erotic about Sari speaking only to Seven, as if Yoosung isn’t there, isn’t really a person, just a thing to be used.

Seven moves to take him by the hips urging him slowly forward until he bottoms out, hips flush against her ass.  Seven’s hips keeping him trapped between them. He lets out a soft moan  when he feels her fingers brush his balls before she starts to rub at her clit. 

Seven drags the flat of his tongue over the bruise he’s sucked into Yoosung’s shoulder and slowly pulls him back. “Do you like this,” he hisses into Yoosung’s ear. “Hmm Pup, you like being used like this?”

Yoosung feels his cheeks get hot, he covers his face with his hands and whimpers and Seven pushes him forward, keeping him steady, moaning loudly as her fingers brush his balls again.

“Use your words Yoosung,” Seven growls.

“Mm-Yes, hng yes g-god,” he lets Seven pull his hands away, lets him place them on Sari’s hips and she pushes back against them.  

Seven keeps his hands over Yoosung’s pulling away from him slightly, hovering just behind him when he coos, “Good boy, Yoosung.”

He waits a beat, swallowing the moan rising in his throat before he draws out of her and rolls his hips back into her, she widens her stance, presses back against him and whines, “please, harder.”

“You heard her, Pup,” Seven growls, nipping at his ear.

“I-I,  _ hng _ ,” Seven shoves him forward harshly, pulls him back, and does it again and Yoosung whines, “p-please,” he begs, “S-Seven, I-I can’t, I’m go-going-”

Seven stills, pulls Yoosung back.  He clucks his tongue at Sari who moves to fuck herself on his length.  Slaps her lightly on the ass and she whines but stills.

“Going to what, Pup?”

“I’m-hah, I’m so close please,” Yoosung whines, hips jerking when Seven’s hand  moves to cup his balls.

“Please?” Seven chuckles, squeezing gently.

Yoosung sobs, whines, jerks forward, ass pressed into Seven’s groin, forehead pressed between Sari’s shoulders, “Please Seven,” he cries, “please I’m c-close, I’m going to-I want to cum,  _ please _ ,” the words tumble out of him as Seven’s hips urge him forward, pushing him slowly into Sari who keeps statue still.

“What do  _ you _ think, Princess?” Seven coos, his voice is thick, husky.  He covers Yoosung’s hands with his own and leans over the both of them, his face buried in Yoosung’s neck.

Sari whines, arching into him as Seven pulls him slowly back and pushes him to fuck into her again, his pelvic floor twists painfully as he fights to control himself.

“Princess,” Seven growls against his ear, “you’re picking up bad habits from our puppy.  Are you close, can our good boy cum?”

Yoosung can feel her fingers working frantically, knuckles bumping his balls as she tightens around him, hips working in quick shallow jerks.

“Y-yes, please, don’t s-stop,” Her face is pressed into the pillows muffling her whimpers, her shallow ragged breaths. “I’m close, I’m fucking close, please, please,” she begs.

And suddenly Seven is sprawled beside her  dragging her face to his and Yoosung watches their tongues tangle together before his lips cover hers.  His hands tugging at the fly of his jeans.  Yoosung keeps himself still, waiting for directions while he watches his best friend’s dick bob free of his pants.

Watches the way Seven throws his head back as he palms his cock, fucks into his own fist.  He keeps still as Sari adjusts, shifts herself to lap at the pink head of Seven’s dick as it slips out of his fist.  Feels her clench around him as Seven’s hands fist in her hair, as he fucks into her mouth.

Seven lifts his eyes from Sari moaning around his cock and locks eyes with Yoosung, irises a  thin ring of gold around blow pupils.  He groans, deep, aggressive, lip trapped so tight between his teeth Yoosung worries he’ll bite clean through. “Alright Pup,” he growls, “make her cum, then you can cum.”

Yoosung swallows and nods.  Fucking into her as Seven fucks her mouth, the sound of her moans muffled by his best friend’s dick does something to him and he grips her hips tight enough to bruise.  His fingers digging harshly into the soft flesh and he pushes into her hard and fast.  

Seven throws his head back, a strangled whimper spilling past his lips and Yoosung feels her tighten, clench, throb around him and  then she gags, pulls off of Seven’s dick.  Her voice is raw as she cries out with her orgasm,  a warm gush against his length.  She goes limp, his grip on her hips the only thing keeping her from collapsing completely into the mattress.

Seven strokes himself, eyes trained on Yoosung as he continues to fuck into the spent woman on the bed.  He urges him on. “What a good boy you are,” he says, voice low words forced through gritted teeth. “G-god Yoosung, look at her,” he growls fucking into his fist, pulling himself to his knees. “Your first time and look how good you fucked her,” Seven shuffles closer, jerking himself off over her ass, one hand cupping Yoosung’s cheek, moving to card fingers through his hair. “Hng, fuck Yoosung,” Seven grunts and Yoosung is so close.  He can’t take his eyes off Seven, off the way he keeps his eyes trained on Yoosung’s face, the way he fucks into his own fist. “G-god, Pup, I’m almost jealous.”

“O-of  _ me _ ,” Yoosung barely manages to speak.  So close it’s hard to think of anything but the feel of her pulse in her pussy, the feel of her warm and wet and tight around him, and how fucking  _ hot _ Seven looks with his shirt tucked under his chin, dick in his hand,  _ watching  _ him.

“Of  _ her _ ,” Seven grunts.

“F-fuck,” Yoosung shouts, his release catching him by surprise despite how close to the edge he’s been this whole time. 

He shouts, unintelligible, hips stuttering as he collapses onto her. Seven’s fist bumping his hip, his hand firmly gripping Yoosung’s ass. Yoosung’s presses his face into the sweat damp hair at the nape of Sari’s neck.  

He’s barely stilled, barely come down from the burn of his sudden orgasm, barely had a chance to worry about crushing her under his weight. when he hears Seven grunt.  Feels his release splash hot across his back.  Seven’s hand braced on his ass, squeezing.

Seven’s lips meet his shoulder.  His breath hot coming in pants against Yoosung’s neck.  The three of them lay there for a moment, a panting, ragged, jumble of limbs before the bed dips and Seven pulls himself up.  Yoosung shifts, pulls out of her and starts to move to lay beside her but she reaches back and whispers  _ stay _ , so softly he’s not sure she’s really spoke.

The the bed dips again and Seven is kneeling beside them, a steaming washcloth in his hand.  He takes Sari’s face in his hands, presses a gentle kiss to her forehead as she blinks up at him with soft adoring eyes.  He washes her face gently, brushes her hair out of her eyes and lays another soft kiss on her cheek before he moves to Yoosung.

In a similar fashion he brushes Yoosung’s hair out of his face, kisses his nose, his temple, his shoulder.  Yoosung sighs when the warm soft cloth swipes at his back.  He sighs softly into Sari’s hair while Seven cleans him.  Seven gently urges him to roll off of her.  He folds the cloth over and uses a clean portion to wipe at the sweat that had pooled between them.

He softly brushes at Sari’s back, another soft kiss on her hip, her spine, her shoulder blade.  She rolls over, accepts a soft peck on her lips before Seven crawls over her.  He brushes the cloth across Yoosung’s soft belly, presses a kiss to his chest.

Yoosung hisses when Seven grasps his limp dick but he only slips the condom off, ties it and  _ smirks. _ He tosses it over his shoulder and Yoosung shakes his head when the condom drops perfectly in the little trash bin next to Sari’s desk.  Seven smiles, chuckles softly and peppers kisses up Yoosung’s neck as he gently cleans him. 

Then he’s gone again, and Sari is hanging over the edge of the bed, a small cheer as she tosses him his PJ pants and pulls his tshirt over her head.  She pulls his arm around her shoulder, tucks her head against his chest. “Was that ok?” She asks softly.  

And Yoosung forgets for a moment, all he can think about is, “Is he coming back?”

Sari chuckles, “Do you want him to?  We can call him back, he’s probably gone back to working.”

Yoosung shakes his head.  He’s not against it, he’s even a little disappointed that Seven is gone almost abruptly after what had happened.

“You’re ok with that,” she asks gently, “with what happened, you didn’t say no, I’m sorry he put you on the spot like that.”

Yoosung shakes his head, “No, it’s-it was fine.  I didn’t think-It was fine, I’m gl-I liked it.”

She wraps her arms around his chest, kisses his chin. “You’re sure?”

Yoosung nods. 

Sari throws one leg over Yoosung and squeezes him tightly before her body relaxes. “I’m glad,” she hums sleepily, “do you think you’d like to do that again?”

Sari reaches out and flicks the lamp beside the bed off while he chews on the inside of his cheek considering her question.  She kicks at the blankets beneath them until she can pull them up over the two of them, cuddling into his side and cocooning them together.

“I, uh, I think I would,” he whispers into her hair.

He feels her smile against his chest as he drifts off to sleep.


	2. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sari expresses some disappointment and Seven makes a bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the chapters are going to be more from the other RFA member's POV. This has a bit of repetition and some explanation of Sari and Seven's relationship.

**Seven**

Seven still can’t believe that Sari had been right.  It’s not that he hadn’t considered Yoosung would  _ want _ to fuck her but he  _ had _ thought that Yoosung was, or at least considered himself, above casual sex.  His best friend was a romantic.  A horny kid with some questionable interests if his browser history was any indication but a sentimental dude all things considered. 

He could hear Sari’s moans, the crescendos of her cries like a kind of music as he worked and Seven had thought, knowing how worked up Sari got when she was denied, that she was letting off steam.  He could feel himself growing harder just listening to her as he finished up the job he was working on and Seven decided that he would give her a consolation prize.  He hadn’t thought to check for Yoosung’s shoes by the door.

Hadn’t expected Yoosung’s ass in the air. His perfect, dimpled ass, already marred by the little red crescent marks her nails had left, begging for his teeth.  His breath had caught in his throat and he’d been entranced by them.  Her hands in his hair as he ate her out and Seven is painfully aware of how hard he is.  He considers backing out of the room, leaving them be.

He owes Sari 20$ after all.

But then she cries out again and Yoosung is pressing lazy kisses up her body as her eyes drift open and catch him there, haunting the doorway.  She waves at him, a small amused glare on her face as she mouths orders and curses and he finds himself stepping closer as she rolls her eyes at him.  He hadn’t expected Yoosung to let him stay, hadn’t expected him to let him  _ touch _ .

Hadn’t expected to be jealous of Sari, fucked silly, face blissed out, beneath Yoosung.  He knew if he’d wanted to he could have used her, fucked her face until he came watching Yoosung finish.  But he hadn’t.  Something about the way Yoosung watched him, the way he bit his lip and let his eyes wander Seven’s body, still mostly clothed.

He hadn’t expected Yoosung to cum when he put his jealousy into words.  When his best friend collapsed on top of his lover Seven hadn’t expect how strong the urge would be to force himself into Yoosung, his ass, his mouth it didn’t even matter Seven wanted to take him, claim him.  Own them both.

He doesn’t.  He cums hard on his best friend. Watches his fingers sink into the soft flesh of Yoosung’s ass.  He cleans them up with gentle touches, indulges in soft kisses with both and then excuses himself.  He doesn’t want to intrude.  He has plenty more work to distract himself with.

It’s early in the morning when Sari’s hands find his shoulders.  He’s fallen asleep, feet tucked under him and head cradled in his hands.  Her hands are firm, thumbs working into the knots in his back as her mouth finds his neck.   They loved one another, and one day maybe they could be the people they wanted for each other. He has no complaints, no regrets with their current arrangement.

Sari pulls his legs out from under him, her nimble fingers working feeling back into his legs.  Her sly smile wordlessly gauging his interest.  She always came back to him, whether she’d spent an evening lavished in whatever extravagance Jumin could muster or stumbled into the bunker half undressed dragging Zen behind her.  Whether his phone had pinged all night with perfect photo’s of her undressing, or the radio silence that came from an evening with Jaehee, this was where she always found herself in the early hours of the morning.

Wordlessly offering herself to  _ him _ .  

Whispering about her evening as she unbuttons his pants, teasing him, wondering if he’d watched them, if he’d liked it as she rides him or braces herself on his desk.  Tonight is no different.  

A vibrant, breathy retelling of how shy Yoosung had been, how hot it had been to watch him use Yoosung like a toy.  She’s rough with him, slamming her hips against him as she pants out how  _ cute _ he’d been, how  _ disappointed _ Yoosung had been when he left.  He presses her back against his desk, ignoring the way his monitors jostle, and he cums as she whispers that Yoosung would like to do it again.

“Can we make him our pet?” She pants as he growls into her clavicle.  Her giggles turning to sighs and moans as he shifts, his thumb working her clit as he rolls his hips.  He’s softening inside her but he won’t pull out til she cums, which will be soon by the way she clenches around him, the way her hands fist in his sweater and her heels dig into his ass.

She cries out, quickly cut off by a crash as she throws back her head, knocks over a monitor and a stack of PhD Pepper cans.  She giggles, adjusts herself as he pulls out and she feels around his desk for a clean napkin.  He slaps her hand away, drops his hoodie in his chair and pulls off his shirt.  

“Do you know how much I paid for this,” she presses the soft fabric into his face before she presses it between her thighs.

“Too much,” he laughs collapsing into his rickety old office chair.  He could afford something new, something probably more comfortable but he’s more sentimental than he likes to admit and he’d stolen this from his school in the states.

“Now it’s a cum-rag,” she snorts.

He grabs her hand, kisses her knuckles and drags them across his cheekbone.  He takes the shirt from her, tosses it to the corner with the other dirty clothes before he pulls her into his lap.

Sari sits in his lap watching as he reaches around her to upright his monitor, sweep a few of the cans out of the way.  She rests her head against his shoulder and dozes for the hour it takes him to finish.  Pops up like she hadn’t been snoring into his neck the moment she feels him lean back to stretch.

“We should make breakfast,” she chirps, “before our puppy wakes up.”

He shakes his head, lets her pull him out of the chair and drag him to the kitchen.  He’s no good with food.  Sure he makes a mean frozen pizza but actually cooking is beyond him, he’s never had the patience for it, or the desire to learn.  So he leans against the counter, chugs an energy drink and follows orders, cutting vegetables and retrieving dishes from the higher shelves while she talks.

“You know he wouldn’t let me suck him off,” she complains.

“Our little gentleman,” he giggles.

She slaps him, “Shut up, I was really disappointed.”

“You still have me,” he says, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, “I’ll never deny you, you’re free to suck my dick whenever you want.”

“How generous,” she snorts. 

“I’m a philanthropist.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re both up,” Yoosung yawns from the hallway and Seven is struck by the sight of him.  In sleep pants and a hoodie over his bare chest, early morning sun making a halo of his bleached blond hair.

“Some of us haven’t slept yet,” Seven chuckles.

Yoosung makes a face as he pads barefoot to the kitchen. “That’s not good for you,” he frowns and then swallows another yawn.

“You know what’s good for you?” Seven smirks spinning away from where he had leaned against the counter to gather Yoosung into his arms. “This look.  Wow Yoosung, you were always super cute but wow.”

Yoosung blushes. “I uh, I couldn’t find my shirt.”

“I don’t think you need it,” Seven smiles, letting him go and collapsing into a chair.

“Oh,” Sari laughs softly, “I guess you might want this back?”  She sets the spatula she’s holding down and reaches for the hem of Yoosung’s shirt.

He makes a high pitched sound before it turns into “N-no, that’s fine, you can borrow it, it’s ok.”

Seven and Sari chuckle.  She smooths the shirt back down over her hips and turns back to the stove.  He watches Yoosung slip effortlessly into helping her.  Seven still isn’t even certain what she’s making but Yoosung has no problem recognizing it and picking a place to help with no effort.

Seven watches the two of them work together.  While he’d never had an interest in cooking, living with both Saeran and Sari had given him a certain appreciation for watching people cook.  It was interesting to see the way they worked, they way they moved, especially together.  

Saeran and Sari were a team when they cooked, they worked in tandem, they joked and roughhoused and high fived.  But Yoosung and Sari made it look like a dance.  Sari lead and Yoosung followed, she leaned as he reached.  Where Saeran would have bumped into her, Yoosung spun out of the way, it was breathtaking.  

“So about last night,” Sari says softly as she covers the pan and slips it in the oven.

Yoosung’s blush starts in his chest as he stammers.

“It’s not a big deal,” Seven says.

“It  _ was _ a big deal,” Yoosung says quietly, looking at the floor.

He let’s Sari wrap her arm around him, lets her hug him against her but he doesn’t move.  He doesn’t lean into her or look up.  “You’ve slept on it,” she says, still soft and soothing, “are you still ok, or are you upset?”

“It’s alright to be upset,” Seven says, watching them.

“I-I’m not,” Yoosung says, a little louder but he doesn’t look up. “I, I liked it, and I wouldn’t have, I would have told you to go i-if I didn’t want to ok? I’m not a child.”

“That’s not what we meant,” Sari coos, “just that in the moment sometimes things are hard to say no to.”

Yoosung nods but he keeps his eyes glued to the floor between his feet and Seven gets an idea.  He glances at Sari and waggles his eyebrows, she rolls her eyes, and he throws himself on the floor sliding on his knees to land in front of Yoosung, looking up into big lilac eyes.

“There was  _ one _ thing you didn’t have a problem saying no to,” Seven smirks.

“W-what?” 

“Saeyoung,” Sari scolds.

“No no, I get it, I totally get it.  Sari’s pretty innocent mouth right?  Didn’t want to mess it up?”

“N-no,” Yoosung stammers, “I, what are you talking about.”

Seven’s smirk grows wider and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, drawing Yoosung’s eyes to his mouth.  Yoosung knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Or were you afraid you’d get off too quick?” Seven hooks his fingers in the pockets of Yoosung’s sleep pants and raises up on his knees, still watching his face. “ _ Or _ ,” he continues quickly _ , _ “were you afraid you’d  _ like _ the way your dick tastes when you kissed her.”

“I, uh,” Yoosung blushes.

“But  _ my _ mouth,” Seven presses a kiss to Yoosung’s belly, “is not as sweet,” he slips the waist of his sleep pants a little lower and presses a kiss to hip. “Not as  _ kissable _ .”

“W-what.”

“Yoosung,” Sari coos, her mouth suddenly closer to Yoosung’s ear than he remembered.  “Wanna see what Saeyoung can do with his mouth?”

Seven watches her tongue dart out to the trance the shell of his ear, he watches the shudder that passes through his body and the way his pupils dilate.

“I bet,” Seven says, his voice low, “if you let me suck your dick, I could get you off before Sari finishes breakfast.”

“If I what?” Yoosung breaths, as Sari’s hand slips down his chest and into his sleep pants. 

Seven watches her stroke him and slips Yoosung’s pants down his hips, he watches Yoosung’s face, waits for him to tell him to stop but he doesn’t.  Sari’s hand moves to squeeze at Yoosung’s balls and Seven leans forward to mouth at his him through his boxers.

Yoosung groans, he leans back and braces his hands against the counter.

Sari pulls her hand away, Seven doesn’t watch her, he can hear the water come on as he sucks and nips at Yoosung through the thin fabric.  The shuffling sounds of her moving around them.

“W-what about your brother?” Yoosung pants.  

Seven glances at the time and leans back to look up into Yoosung’s eyes. “It’s too early don’t worry about it.” He grins, “Are you in Yoosungie?”

Yoosung nods.

Seven yanks Yoosung’s boxers down just far enough that he watch his cock bob free, already mostly hard, he glances up at Yoosung once more.  Makes sure those pretty purple eyes are watching him when he swirls his tongue around his tip and Yoosung sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, holds his breath. 

He drags the flat of his tongue the length of Yoosung’s cock and watches Yoosung twitch.  Seven sucks the tip into his mouth and Yoosung’s mouth falls open, a low groan spills out.  

Seven is vaguely aware, as he wraps his fingers around the base of Yoosung’s cock, that he can hear Sari leaving the room, that he can hear the door to his bedroom open.  It’s all lost to Yoosung’s needy whine when he slowly swallows him.

Yoosung’s knuckles are white as his grips the counter and watches Seven pull back slowly. His knees buckle when Seven hums around him and it’s just his grip on the counter that keeps him from falling.

Seven pulls off and licks his lips. “Mmm, can’t have you falling cutie.” He chuckles.

Yoosung whines when Seven stands and takes his hand, he follows his best friend to the couch, lets himself be pushed down into the soft cushions.  Seven sinks to his knees between thick thighs as Sari’s hand brushes his shoulder and Yoosung’s eyes are so focused on his mouth he doesn’t even spare a glance to the bottle she sets on the coffee table.

She brushes his hair out of his face and kisses his forehead and walks towards the kitchen.

Seven tugs Yoosung down pulling his thighs around his hips and leaves a trail of bites up his stomach, he nips and sucks at Yoosungs nipples, and moves to capture his lips.  Yoosung hesitates only a moment before opening his mouth, letting Seven’s tongue stroke at his own.

Seven’s hands travel the curves of Yoosung’s body, squeezing at his hips, his chest, his ass.  He let’s Yoosung lead the kiss, desperately sucking at Seven’s tongue, running his hands along Seven’s back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks pulling away, and slipping down Yoosung’s body to press a kiss to his hip.

Yoosung nods and watches Seven slip the little bottle off the table.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like it,” he says seriously and waits for Yoosung to nod.  

In the kitchen Sari is washing knives and cutting boards, the table has been set and coffee is percolating.

Seven slicks his fingers with lube and Yoosung watches, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his eyes lidded but curious.  He kisses Yoosung’s thigh, kisses his hip, his tongue dips into Yoosung’s navel.  He bends his head, his tongue darting out to lap at Yoosung’s balls, he sucks one into his mouth and then the other before dragging his tongue slowly along Yoosung’s cock.

Seven kisses the tip, ignoring the soft whimpers Yoosung makes.  He hovers there for a moment, opens his mouth wide and covers Yoosung’s length with his mouth barely touching him until he feels the tip slip past his gag reflex.  He closes his mouth around Yoosung, sucks roughly and begins to bob his head.

He doesn’t need to look to know Yoosung’s hands have moved to his thighs where  his fingers twitch and curl.  Seven pushes one of Yoosung’s thighs up as he sucks, tongue working along Yoosung’s shaft.  He presses one slick finger against his entrance and he’s surprised to hear Yoosung beg.

“Please,” he whimpers, his hips twitching.

Seven contemplates simply doing what he’d planned to do anyway but even in a moment like this he can’t help but tease.  He circles the tight muscle, prodding, teasing and roughly sucking his cock.  

“S-sev-HAH-Seven,” Yoosung whines, “P-please, please, please.”

Yoosung’s hips twitch and roll and Seven stops.  He smirks around Yoosung’s cock and waits, teasing his tongue along the length with every shallow thrust, until Yoosung stills with a sob.  

He leans into Sari’s fingers trailing along his shoulders as he pulls back to look at Yoosung.  “What? Please what Pup?” He asks, his tone innocent, his eyes wide.

Sari sit’s on the couch, gently lifting Yoosung’s head and resting it in her lap. She holds 5 fingers up and nods her head in the direction of the kitchen as Yoosung groans.  His chest heaves and he presses his hips back against Seven’s still teasing fingers.

“Hng, please, please touch me,” Yoosung whispers, cheeks pink, eyes averted.  Sari runs her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his damp forehead.

“I’m touching you right now,” Seven laughs, voice rough.  He presses his finger to Yoosung’s hole and pulls back when Yoosung attempts to press back against it.

“Your fingers, please Seven,” he begs.

“What about them?” Seven smirks and runs his tongue lazily along Yoosung’s shaft.  God he loved the way Yoosung shuddered, the way he melted into every touch.

“Yungie is a little dense, Pup,” Sari coos, and Yoosung shudders violently, “you have to tell him exactly what you want.”

“He’s being m-mean,” Yoosung whines, and Seven notices his eyes move back from the kitchen.

Yoosung Kim remembered that this was a bet. Seven can feel just how close Yoosung is, he laps at the precum steadily dripping from his tip, pumps him slowly and watches.  He’s not sure who’s side Sari is on as she coos in agreement, her fingers carding through messy blond hair.

“I know, Pup, but you like it when he’s mean don’t you?” She whispers and he nods.   Her other hand slips down his chest, rolls his nipple between her fingers and he shudders, his hips twitch.  She moves her hand back to his throat, tilting his head so that he’s forced to look at her. “Just tell him what you want.”

“Put your fingers in-inside me, please.” He begs.

Sari’s eyes flick to Seven.

“Just, put them inside?” Seven smirks.

Yoosung groans as Sari tightens her grip on his throat. “F-finger my ass, please Seven.”

“Oh!” he chirps. 

“Good boy Yoosung, very good,” Sari whispers capturing his lips with hers as Seven pushes one finger into Yoosung’s tight hole.

He sucks Yoosung’s cock into his mouth and slowly bobs his head, hollowing his cheeks, moving in time with the thrusts of his fingers.  He’s no longer interested in watching Yoosung, he’s on a timer, he has to finish this soon.

There’s a wet sound of Sari sucking on Yoosung’s tongue and then Yoosung cries out something that might be a curse followed by “More!”

Seven slips a second finger, curling and scissoring as he searches for the perfect spot to work Yoosung over completely. He sucks roughly at Yoosung’s cock, drawing him deeper, and then he finds it.

“Sh-shit,” Yoosung’s hips buck into his mouth and he gags a little before he adjusts.

Sari whispers something and suddenly Yoosung’s hands are in his hair, twisting and tugging until he’s holding Seven’s head firmly.  He can hear Sari whispering still, encouragement maybe, he can’t tell.  Yoosung sits up.

He’s cradled between Sari’s thighs, her hands stroking his chest as he thrusts up into Seven’s mouth.  She’s smirking down at him from over Yoosung’s shoulder, she knows how much he likes this, how often he’s encouraged her to use him as a reward, how disappointed he looks when she’s not interested.

Yoosung fucks into his mouth erratically and he does his best to keep up with him. He slips a third finger into Yoosung’s ass and continues his assault on his prostate.  Listens to the sobs and groans, the whimpers and the underlying murmur of Sari’s voice in Yoosung’s ear.

He hadn’t expected to want to fuck Yoosung, surprised at the urge to replace his fingers with his dick.  Not usually one to seek his own orgasm so frequently but that wasn’t what they’d talked about. This was about a blow job. Seven presses his thighs together, tries to avoid allowing himself anything more than the pleasure of being used.

Yoosung tenses, he shouts out a mess of sounds, like too many names and curses trying to force their way out of his mouth at once. His hips stutter, his ass clenches around Seven’s fingers.

“Sh-shit, fuck, oh my god,” Yoosung groans as his release spills down Seven’s throat, his fingers twisting painfully in red curls.

Sari coos softly in his ear, “You did so good Yoosung, you’re so good, such a good boy.  My Perfect Pup.”

Yoosung curls forward whimpering when Seven slowly pulls his fingers out, still sucking softly, stroking his balls with his thumb. Sari follows the curve of his body, she covers Yoosung’s hand with hers loosening his grip on Seven’s hair. She brushes her fingers across a freckled cheek.

“You both did so well,” she says softly before extracting herself.

Seven lets Yoosung’s dick drop from his mouth as the timer in the kitchen dings.  He considers jumping up, declaring his victory but it doesn’t seem like the moment to gloat.  Instead he rests his head on Yoosung’s thigh.

Sari presses a warm cloth to his face, she wipes gently at his eyes and he takes her hand, presses kisses to her fingers, before taking the cloth from her.  

He’s leaving sloppy kisses on Yoosung’s belly, teasing and giggling with his ticklish friend after cleaning them both up, they don’t hear the footsteps in the hall.  They wouldn’t have noticed them anyway, he thinks.

“You too?” Saeran groans stepping into the room as Seven helps Yoosung with his pants.

“Uh, s-sorry,” Yoosung stammers with a squeak and a deep blush.

“For fucks sake.” Saeran shakes his head, his own cheeks a little pink as he sits at the table and glares between Sari and his brother. “You assholes ruin everything.”


	3. Jumin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sari has a way of planting an idea in Jumin's mind and he can never quite tell if he's fallen for a trick or if she just knows him that well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Jumin Han!

Jumin Han can not believe that he’s let himself be put in this position.  He can’t believe he’s even contemplating this.  In fact he’d firmly denied that this was even a possibility just 12 hours earlier.  Had firmly denied that he would let any such thing ever happen, this was place of business and he was the master of his own mind and body.  

He has no idea why he can’t control the thoughts racing through his head when he thanks Yoosung for a job well done and watches the pretty blush rise in his cheeks as he actually scurries away.  He has no idea, and yet.

“You look like the cat that caught the canary, Sari,’ he says, hint of a smile disrupting the severe lines of his face as he takes her coat.

“Mr. Han,” she smiles, a slight raise of her brow and the smirk that reminds him who she really belongs to, “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“You know exactly what I’m  _ insinuating _ ,” he chuckles.  Jumin  _ liked _ not being the only man in her life.  He liked that he couldn’t own her.  He liked that he borrowed her from Luciel and he occasionally liked to have her arrive still tasting of him.  

She liked him to pretend he didn’t like it so much.

“If you’re good  _ maybe  _ I’ll tell you about it,” she coos, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking the seat he’s offered her.

He suggests that he’s not interested in role reversal.

It’s barely an hour later when she finally tells him.  Her skin golden in the late afternoon sun as she lies mostly naked on the balcony lounger running her fingers through Elizabeth III fur while he attempts to take pictures.  She teases him, and he laughs while he grumbles about how  _ she’s _ the reason it’s difficult.

“Has Luciel considered adopting a cat now that things have settled down for the three of you?”

Sari grins deviously, her tongue darts out to wet her lips and his eyes linger there for a moment before she cocks her head, “I think we’ve just adopted a puppy actually.”

“Hmm, a puppy?” He muses, Luciel had never mentioned dogs, though he considered that the other man would not have gotten the same satisfaction of teasing him with his torment of dogs.

“I suppose it followed him home more than he’s adopted him,” she says with a curious glint to her eye.

“Oh a neighborhood stray?” He’s interested.

“No, I wouldn’t say he’s from our neighborhood but he does seem to show up on our doorstep regularly and the boys have taken quite a shine to him.”

“A mutt then?” Jumin asks, always conscious of pedigree.

“No I don’t think so.  More of a Golden Retriever,” she smirks and he gets the distinct feeling he’s missing out on a joke.

“Have you taken him to a vet, I could recommend one.”  He finds himself completely taken aback when she throws her head back and lets out a cackle that startles his cat from her lap.

“No Jumin, he’s in good health,” she says when she catches her breath.

“Have you given him a name?”  Jumin asks, his eyebrows knit together.  He’s missing something, he can tell by the tone in her voice, the tilt of her head and the smug smile on her pretty lips.

“He came with a name,” she says, reaching out for him.  

He obliges her, takes a few steps forward and leans towards her when he asks, “Hmm he has a name, what is it?”

He expects her to take his hand when he reaches to lean on the arm of her chair, but her smug smile turns wicked and she grabs his tie, pulls him towards her so that he stumbles to kneel between her parted thighs. She kisses him and his head spins.  He tongue pushing insistently between his lips until he lets her in, lets her think she has control.

Pressing herself against him as her tongue strokes at his, until his hands trail down her back to grab at her ass and lift her hips to press against his groin and she breaks the kiss with a smirk.  Trails kisses along his jaw.  He tongue darts out to tease at the shell of his ear before she whispers, “Yoosung Kim.”

“Sari,” he growls, “don’t you think this is bordering on unhealthy?”

She’d giggled then, rolled her hips and recounted her time with Yoosung and Luciel in vivid detail.  He’d canceled their dinner plans.

Later when she sitting on his bed wrapped in a blanket with her head resting against his chest and a cup of tea cradled in her hands she would ask him how  _ he _ has never considered it.

“I have no idea what you mean, I’m not sure why I  _ would _ ,” he admits.

“Well,” she says, a little nervous, “it’s just you’re a very strict boss, but you do give credit where it’s due.”

“Thank you,” he says pressing a kiss to her hair.

She giggles, “That’s not-Jumin, haven’t you ever told him he did a good job?”

“I’m sure I have,” he considers, “Yoosung is diligent if the work he’s been given interests him, he’s made a good temporary replacement for Ms. Kang.”

“Hmm you should tell him that,” she says softly. “Tell him he did a good job, and watch how pretty he is when he blushes.”

“Sari C&R is a place of business.”

“Is it a place of business when I send you pictures of my tits?” She laughs.

“I don’t open your photos while I’m in the office,” he shrugs.

“I thought you just waited to respond,” she pouts, “you don’t even peek?”

“I am working, I can tell when you’d like to distract me.”

“God you’re terrible,” she whines.  “You should still try it, tell him he’s good.  Watch him look up at you through his pretty eyelashes with his cheeks all pink.  You should see him giving head Jumin, I bet he’s sucks dick like a champ.”

He doesn’t mean to fall into her trap but there’s something about the way she could put an idea in his head.  He’s never sure if he falls for it because she knows exactly what he likes or because it’s her.

“I finished the reports for the hospital chair meeting last night Ju-Mr. Han,” Yoosung says, peeking his head around the door to Jumin’s office.

“Hmm, already?” Jumin glances up from his emails.  

“Y-yes,” he stammers, “I didn’t have anything to do last night, they were actually kind of interesting.”

“Bring them here,” Jumin motions him forward and holds his hand out for the reports. Yoosung rushes forward to place them in his hands and waits. “You didn’t rush through this like you did with the catfood numbers?”

“N-no sir,” Yoosung says and Jumin swears he can see the younger man squeeze his thighs together.

_ Dammit woman _ , he curses silently flipping through the report.  He considers when he has time to see her again, consider emailing Luciel to discuss and appropriate punishment for her.  “These are incredibly thorough Yoosung,” he nods and then he hears Sari’s voice in his mind and before he can stop himself he looks Yoosung in the eyes and says, “You’re a more than adequate replacement for Ms. Kang.  Good Job Yoosung.”

Yoosung’s shoulders twitch, his pupils dilate slightly and he wets his lips with his tongue.  Sari was right about the pretty blush that spreads across his cheeks.  “Th-thank you Mr. Han,”  Yoosung manages, staring intently at the floor.

The day is very busy, Jumin has meetings, there are more email inquiries to be sent than he can keep track of.  Meetings to be rescheduled, meetings to be attended.  Yet he finds himself haunting Yoosung’s desk at every opportunity.  Peppering the young man with well deserved compliments and testing the curious feeling he encounters at the demure way Yoosung responds.

“I’d like you to stay a little late if you can,” he calls from inside his office.

Yoosung appears in the doorway chewing his lip, cheeks still pink from a few minutes earlier when Jumin had commended his ability to remain professional in front of his Father’s new, very famous, girlfriend.  “I don’t have plans.”

“Good I will treat you to a meal afterwards.” Jumin nods without looking up.

“I, uh, thank you.” Yoosung nods.

Yoosung works very hard, Jumin decides, he works even harder when given a significant amount of positive reinforcement. It was the opposite of Ms. Kang who seemed to work harder to spite him.  They’re finished before he expects, and he finds himself standing at Yoosung’s desk looking down at him.

“You did very well today Yoosung,” Jumin says, his voice soft, almost fond, “I’m very impressed.”

Big lavender eyes blink up at him through thick dark lashes and he watches the blush creep up his neck and spread across his cheeks while he stammers out his thank you.

He hears Sari’s voice in his head again and alone in the office with no one to hear Jumin indulges himself, “You’re a good boy Yoosung.”

“W-what,” Yoosung jumps to his feet, “I’m, wh-th-thank you Mr. Han?”  Yoosung stutters and glances around the room.

“Come along Yoosung,” Jumin says with a smirk, turning on his heel, “If you’d like dinner you’ll keep up.”

Yoosung stumbles and grabs his coat following close behind, he looks flustered.  He looks nervous and intrigued and Jumin can not believe how easy it was, not just to change his stance on  perhaps sleeping with Yoosung but also with how eagerly Yoosung appears to have committed to the scene.

“You’re aware of what is going to happen,” he says once they’ve settled inside his car.

“I, uh, I have an idea,” Yoosung stammers.

“Could you tell me what you expect to happen?” Jumin asks, he reaches out to take the seat belt from Yoosung’s shaking hand and clicks the buckle in place.

“Y-you want to sleep with me?” Yoosung says quietly.

Jumin chuckles. “That is certainly part of it.  I had thought I was more subtle.”

“I know you and Sari, you know, a-and I know she probably told you, and you kind of,” Yoosung takes a deep breath. “I-I know she told you what to say.”

“She may have put the idea in my head, but you’re reactions were much more intriguing than Sari’s vulgar stories.” Jumin shrugs.

“ _ Really _ ?” Yoosung breathes.

Jumin reaches one large hand out and rests it on Yoosung’s thigh. “What would  _ you _ like to happen? It is important that you are comfortable.”

“I a-am, I’m just nervous,” Yoosung says and Jumin can feel his soft thigh twitch beneath the cheap fabric of his dress pants.

“Yoosung,” Jumin says softly.

“I like it when you tell me I did a good job,” he mumbles to the back of the seat in front of him, “and when you tell me what to do and call me a good boy.”

“I’ve noticed,” Jumin smiles, rubbing circles in Yoosung’s thigh with his thumb.  “Is there anything you don’t want to do,” he asks, “anything that is off limits.”

“I d-don’t want to be called names, I don’t think,” Yoosung says, glancing shyly at Jumin.

“Is that all?”

“I-I don’t know,” Yoosung is entirely red and Jumin has to resist the urge to pop the buttons on the smaller man’s shirt to see how far down his blush goes.

“If I do something you do not like you need only say  _ red _ and I will stop and make sure you are ok, does that sound ok to you?”

Yoosung nods and swallows.  When the car stops he lets Jumin unbuckle his seatbelt and lean across him to open his door.

Yoosung belonged to Sari, possibly even to Luciel.  Jumin could tell by the way she spoke about him the day before, the possessive way she’s always seemed to guard him.  Jumin can tell by the way Yoosung smells, the slight way his style has shifted to things he knows Sari enjoys.  Jumin likes that he’s been trusted to help her break him in.

Once they’ve stepped inside the penthouse Jumin relaxes completely.

“Take off your jacket and tie,” he says firmly.  

Jumin removes his own Jacket, hangs it neatly over the back of a chair and loosens his tie.  He watches Yoosung struggle with his poorly tied tie for a moment while he removes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves before leaving him there, doing what he was told. Jumin collects a few things from the bedroom he uses when Sari visits.

He won’t be taking Yoosung in Sari’s room.

He sets the things he collected on the table by his bed and takes Yoosung’s tie from him frowning.  He pulls him over and stands him in front of the mirror he keeps near the door and proceeds to properly tie Yoosung’s tie. “In the future,” he says slowly, lips brushing Yoosung’s ear, breath ghosting hot across his cheek, “this is the proper way to do this.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Yoosung whispers.

Jumin feels a tug in his groin.  He unties the the tie and lets it hang down Yoosung’s chest. “Show me you’ve understood.”

Jumin stands behind him while he nods slowly, hands shaking slightly as he reaches for the tie.  He rests his hands on Yoosung’s hips while he watches him struggle with the tie.

“That is very sloppy, Yoosung, I know you can do better.  Try again.”

“Yes, Sir,” Yoosung nods, his brow furrows in concentration and his jaw set determined and Jumin can’t help but smile slightly.

Yoosung is very responsive.  He doesn’t talk back like Sari, doesn’t struggle to control the situation despite a spoken desire to relinquish control.

“Better,” Jumin coos, lifting his hands to untie the tie once more and pressing a soft kiss to Yoosung’s jaw.  The smaller man shudders. “One more time, you learn very quickly.”

Yoosung nods again, this time he does it quickly and properly, and Jumin finds himself laughing slightly.  Already so responsive and he’s not even aware they’ve begun.

“Perfect, Yoosung,” Jumin praises and he can practically see Yoosung’s tail wag.  Jumin straightens and tightens the tie and smirks.  He gives it a tug and Yoosung lets out a little  _ oh _ sound. “What a smart boy you are,” he coos, tugging Yoosung along with him.

Yoosung blushes and shifts his hips.

“I hadn’t planned for this,” Jumin muses, loosening Yoosung’s tie and then sitting on a stool where he can see him properly.  “I’m not sure what I’d like to do to you,” he hums as Yoosung’s almost permanent blush deepens.  “Are you opposed to penetration, would you like to save that for a more intimate situation?”

“M-more wh-what?”

“Sari did have me buy her a rather interesting device, it doesn’t require harnesses to mar the lovely lines of her body if you would prefer to leave that honor to her.” Jumin shrugs.

“H-honor,” Yoosung breathes.

Jumin watches him for a moment, his purple eyes wide.  He expects Yoosung will say no.  The boy had plenty of notions regarding sex and intimacy and Jumin is all too happy to respect those.

“I uh, I think I’m ok with that if it happens,” Yoosung says.

“Hmm,” Jumin smirks, “interesting.”

He stands and approaches Yoosung again.  Inspects him a little more thoroughly.  Jumin presses his thumb to Yoosung’s plush lips, and smirks when Yoosung slips his tongue tentatively out to lap at it.  He switches to press his fingers experimentally into Yoosung’s mouth and the shorter man gasps a little but quickly closes his lips around them and sucks, circling the digits with his tongue.

Jumin pulls his fingers back with a wet pop.  Yoosung’s eyes are dark, his breathing shallow. “Have you ever given a blow job before Yoosung?” He asks.

“No Sir.”

“Remove your pants Yoosung,” Jumin instructs him and waits while he fumbles with the button and fly of his dress slacks.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whimpers, hands fisting at his sides as the trousers pool around his ankles.  Jumin assumes at first he’s apologising for the ridiculous striped socks he’s wearing until Jumin’s eyes travel up his legs and are met with loud novelty boxers declaring  _ home of the whopper _ on the groin.

He chuckles.

“S-seven bought them for me, I n-need to do laundry!”

Jumin outright laughs.  He takes a step closer and straightens Yoosung’s dress shirt.  He looks him over and decides to unbutton it himself, but leave it on.  He grasps Yoosung’s tie and leads him to the bed in the corner.

“Did you like kissing Sari, Yoosung,” Jumin asks reclining against the pillows of his soft bed.

“Y-yes, Sir,” Yoosung nods. “She’s very soft and she tasted, uh she tasted  _ good _ ?”

Jumin smiles softly. “Sari is very skilled with her mouth,” Jumin agrees.  “Would you like to show me what she’s taught you?”  Jumin stretches out long legs and pats his lap.

Yoosung nods, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Jumin’s lap.  Jumin folds his hands behind his head and relaxes further into his pillows while he waits for Yoosung’s nerves to catch up with him.

Yoosung leans forward slowly and then sits back and frowns before leaning in again.  He presses a soft kiss to Jumin’s jaw, trails a few more kisses along his jawline to his ear and laps at the lobe before slotting their lips together.  Jumin is pliant at first, he opens his mouth when Yoosung’s tongue teases in between his lips.  He’s passive as Yoosung’s tongue explores his mouth, as his hands slip into Jumin’s hair.  

Jumin lets him get his bearings.  He lets his hands drop from behind his head to rest on Yoosung’s thighs.  He considers that kissing Yoosung is pleasant, that the younger man doesn’t kiss like Sari at all but it’s nice.  He feels his cock strain against his pants and lets one hand slip round to cup Yoosung’s ass, pull him closer.  The other travels up his stomach, fingers dancing over his chest, tracing the line of his neck before tangling in his hair.

Jumin tightens his fist in Yoosung’s hair, holds his ass tightly and rolls his hips against Yoosung’s groin.  Both men let out soft moans.  Jumin lets go of Yoosung’s plush cheek and buries both hands in Yoosung’s hair, his pushes his tongue past Yoosung’s, lapping at the roof of his mouth and then sucking Yoosung’s tongue into his own, sliding their tongues together in a steady rhythm.

Yoosung is breathing heavy already, hips bucking to press his cock against Jumin’s stomach.  “You’re so eager,” Jumin chuckles, his voice low, rough.  He hadn’t expected to  _ want _ this the way he does.  He’d invited Yoosung over out of curiosity.  Intrigued by how easy he’d been to fluster and arouse.

It was hot.

“Turn around,” he commands, taking a moment to breathe deeply before reaching to the few things he’d left by his bed.

Yoosung does what he’s told.

“Take those ridiculous boxers off,” Jumin grunts as the obnoxious burger mascot gives him a malformed thumbs up from the seat of Yoosung’s boxers.  He watches Yoosung slip them off a little awkwardly still kneeling over Jumin’s legs instead of simply standing.

Jumin runs an appreciative hand over the pale curve of Yoosung’s ass. Soft and round and pliant under his fingers.  He considers of all the bottoms he’s seen, Yoosung’s is among the best.

“Have you ever had anything inserted inside of you?”  He is aware that he’s never been particularly adequate at bedroom talk.  Sari said she found it attractive but he’d received complaints before.  He wonders absently if Yoosung will find his manner off putting.

“I, uh, y-yes Sir.”

Jumin opens the bottle of lube he’d brought out and spreads a small amount along his fingers.

“Does this happen often?”

“Yes S-sir.” Yoosung mumbles pressing his face into the mattress as Jumin draws his finger over the tight muscle, teasing the little bundle of nerves.

“What have you put inside yourself Yoosung?”

“M-my f-fing-”

“Speak clearly,” Jumin chastises with a small slap to Yoosung’s ass.

“My fingers,” Yoosung says clearly, “a-and I have a t-thing.”

“A what?”

“A toy,” Yoosung whimpers.

“What kind of toy,” Jumin asks, slipping one finger into Yoosung’s ass to the first knuckle.

Yoosung sucks in a breath but he’s quick to relax around the digit as Jumin pushes deeper. “A sm-small vibrator.”

Jumin hums as he slips his finger in and out of Yoosung’s ass. He adds a little more lube and a second finger slips in easily.  The plug in his lap and thoughts of a blow job are forced out of his mind and replaced with how much he wants to be the first person to press themselves into Yoosung’s ass.

Yoosung whimpers as he pushes his fingers in and curls them, presses back against his hand as he pulls out.  Jumin lands another sharper slap on Yoosung’s ass. “Good boys don’t take more than they’re given Yoosung.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Yoosung whines, his thighs shake with the effort of not pushing back to fuck Jumin’s hand.

“Yoosung,” Jumin says, his voice rough, “I would like to fuck you, is there anything you’d like first?”

Yoosung ducks his head and inhales sharply. “C-can I,” he can hear him swallow, “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“Have you ever done that before?” Jumin asks, he glances at the plug in his lap and chuckles.

“N-no, but I want to try.”

“I’m going to put a toy inside you,” Jumin says evenly.

Yoosung nods.

“Good boys use their words,” he says while he lubes up the plug.

“Yes Sir.” Yoosung squeaks.

Jumin is a man of simple pleasures for the most part.  This all may seem very elaborate, but he never considered it so.  The act of teasing or praising a lover to experience a high quality of pleasure was something that came naturally.  There’s something about the choked whimpers spilling out of Yoosung’s mouth that are exactly the reason he does this.

When the little purple gem on the flared base of the plug sits snugly between Yoosung’s cheeks Jumin taps him lightly on the bottom and he turns around to face the older man again.  He waits.

“Go ahead,” Jumin nods.

“You’re still dressed,” Yoosung says, cocking his head to the side and Jumin regrets that he’d decided to avoid Sari’s puppy names.

“You’ll have to fix that won’t you, Yoosung?”

“Y-yes Sir.”  

Jumin watches Yoosung suck his bottom lip in between his teeth while he reaches for him.  He tucks Jumin’s tie over his shoulder.  Nervous fingers fumble with the buttons of his waistcoat.  They work their way up the buttons of his dress shirt and Yoosung places a cautious kiss to Jumin’s navel that earns him a low rumbling laugh and a ruffling of his hair.

Yoosung works the button of Jumin’s pants and then the zipper and Jumin raises his hips to that Yoosung can properly pull them down.  He freezes when he’s finished and Jumin has settled back against his pillows. 

“Very good Yoosung,” Jumin coos pulling him up by the tie and placing a quick peck to his lips.

Yoosung blushes, “You d-don’t wear underwear?”

Jumin shrugs, “I don’t see any reason to waste time with something so simple and unnecessary.” 

“O-oh.”

“Yoosung would you like some instructions?” 

“N-no, I think I know what I’m,” he pauses and grips the base of Jumin’s cock, “I think I know what to do.”

“Did Sari teach you?” Jumin smirks watching the way Yoosung’s brow knits together in concentration.

Jumin is hard, he’s been hard since they got out of the car and had only gotten harder.  It’s all he can do to control the jerk of his hips when Yoosung’s tongue licks a thick swath along the underside of his dick.

“Seven did,” Yoosung says softly, looking up at Jumin through his lashes. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Jumin asks, tucking a hair behind Yoosung’s ear.

“He uh, he did it to me?” Yoosung admits.

Jumin chuckles and cards his hands through Yoosung’s hair. “What an honest boy you are,” he coos.  “A good, honest boy.”

He tangles his fingers in Yoosung’s blond hair, as he continues to lap experimentally at the head of Jumin’s dick, occasionally dragging his tongue the length while he works up the nerve to suck it proper.  Jumin doesn’t mind, the predictable sensations are soothing in a way, the unintentional teasing working him up regardless.

When Yoosung’s mouth finally closes along his length it takes Jumin a moment to remember it’s his first time.  His fingers tighten in Yoosung’s shaggy hair and he fucks up into his mouth.  Thrusting until he feels his throat tighten around the tip and pulling back a few times before his senses return and he drops his hands.  

Yoosung pulls off, coughing a little, eyes watering.  He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and blinks up at Jumin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jumin coos, pushing the hair out of his face.  “What a good boy, I’m sorry did I hurt you?  Are you alright?”

Yoosung’s chest heaves as he nods, his voice is hoarse when he speaks, “It’s ok, I, uh I liked it.”

Jumin grabs Yoosung by the tie, he pulls him closer their lips crashing together as he covers Yoosung’s mouth in a searing kiss.  Jumin presses a kiss to the corner of Yoosung’s mouth, another to his pulse point, he drags his tongue the length of Yoosung’s collarbone, his hand moving down the smaller man’s back to toy with the plug.

Yoosung moans and wriggles as Jumin sinks his teeth into Yoosung’s shoulder. “Good boys don’t whine, Yoosung.”

“Yes Sir,” Yoosung says weakly.

“Good boys beg.” He commands.

“Please,” Yoosung says without hesitation. “Please, Sir, please.”

Jumin uses his hands on Yoosung’s hips to urge him to turn around.  Directs him to continue kneeling over his lap, facing away with him. “Please what Yoosung?”  Jumin presses Yoosung’s shoulders forward until he’s bending with his ass in the air. “Good boys don’t get their rewards if they can’t use their words.”  Jumin plays with the plug, teasing it slowly in and out of Yoosung’s ass.

“Please fuck me,” Yoosung shouts and presses his face into the mattress.

Jumin chuckles. “Good boys shouldn’t be so vulgar, but I’ll forgive you.” He slowly works the plug out of Yoosung, and grabs a condom from the table beside the bed, rolling it down the length of his cock and applying a generous amount of lube.

He takes Yoosung by the hips and urges him backwards, directs him upright and lines himself up with Yoosung’s hole.  He lets the younger man press down on him at his own pace.  Lets him settle painfully slowly over him, engulfing his length entirely as he bottoms out.

Jumin leans forward, he wants desperately to fuck up into Yoosung.  To press him forward and use him roughly but he won't.  Not until that is something Yoosung can vocalize that he wants at least.  Jumin presses his chest against Yoosung’s back and reaches around to drag his thumb along Yoosung’s balls.

Yoosungs hips twitch and he lets out a soft whimper.

“You can move whenever you want,” Jumin says softly against his neck.

“C-can you?” He whispers.

Jumin chuckles. He pushes Yoosung’s bottom raising him up just enough that he can snap his hips up into him.  Yoosung makes a strangled noise and his hand drops to his dick but Jumin slaps it away, “Good boys have patience Yoosung.”

“Yes Sir.”

Jumin rolls his hips slower this time, one hand braced under Yoosung’s ass to keep him where he wants him while the other absently teases him, squeezing at his balls, digging his nails into his thighs, barely there strokes along the length of his dick.  The sounds Yoosung makes are a sweet symphony to Jumin’s ears.  Sighs and whines and soft curses.

Soon Yoosung is pressing back against his thrusts and he’s free to tease with both hands.  Jumin knows he won’t last long.  He can feel the taut spring of his orgasm wound tight in his groin and it’s all he can do to continue to try to find that spot inside Yoosung.

The younger man doesn’t resist when Jumin pushes him forward to brace on his hands and knees, doesn’t complain when Jumin presses on his back to get him to cock his ass up.  He lets out a strangled sob and his hips twitch and Jumin  _ knows _ he’s found it.

He leans forward, presses a kiss between Yoosung’s shoulders and yanks his head back by the hair. “M’gonna, hng, please Sir, I’m so close can I-”

“Yes, f-fuck, yes Yoosung you can cum” Jumin manages to grunt between his own moans.  Yoosung was so tight and warm and pliant and willing, he has no idea how he’s lasted so long on the edge.

It doesn’t take much, Jumin couldn’t say if it was the simple movement of Yoosung’s arm as he babbled his way through his orgasm or the way Yoosung clenched around him.  He swears and yanks too hard on Yoosung’s hair before he let’s go and grinds his forehead into Yoosung’s back.  Aware that maybe it wasn’t a pleasant feeling for his partner but unable to do anything about it.  The intensity of his orgasm over riding any sense or concern he could usually muster. 

Jumin extracts himself from the pile they’re in.  He lets his breathing settle and pulls the condom off.  Ties it and goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. 

He turns on the water in the big bathtub, lets it run until it’s just a bit to warm and plugs the drain.  He digs through the drawers of the vanity and mixes some scented oils into the water, sets a bath bomb on the edge near the faucet and gathers a warm washcloth before he goes back to Yoosung.

Yoosung has rolled onto his back and he looks,  _ embarassed _ .  He runs his fingers through Elizabeth III fur and watches Jumin with a pinched look on his face.

“What seems to be the matter,” Jumin asks, hoping the concern came through in his tone, “was I too- did I hurt you?”

Yoosung shakes his head. “I uh, I made a mess on your bed.”

Jumin laughs. “Yes, well that happens, it’s alright.”

“You’re blanket-”

I have other blankets Yoosung,” Jumin laughs.  He folds the comforter over the wet spot and sits next to Yoosung handing him the cloth and watching as he cleans himself up and then sits looking a little lost with the soiled cloth in his hand.

“Can you stand?” Jumin asks.

“Hmm?” Yoosung hums, a little dopey.

“Come along,” Jumin chuckles pulling Yoosung’s arm around his shoulder and tucking one of his arms under the smaller man’s legs.  He lifts Yoosung and carries him to the bathroom, setting him gently in the steaming bath and dropping the bathbomb into the water. 

“Feel free to spend the night Yoosung, you can use Sari’s room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then they order fried chicken and when Yoosung wakes up in the morning there's a package of designer briefs at the foot of the bed, probably a nicer suit too...


	4. Zen

Everything about their evening had gone the same always.  Zen had picked Sari up from work, leaning against his bike, leaving his helmet on so he couldn’t be photographed.  She’d practically skipped out of the building, her cat eared helmet dangling from her fingers, her skirt too short.  She threw her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his visor.

Zen wasn’t in love with Sari, not the way Seven obviously was, and he’d balked the first time she’d kissed him but she’d made sense when she explained herself.  He could trust her and he enjoyed time with her, found her attractive.  He didn’t have time for romance and he could clearly see where her heart lay. Firmly in his good friend’s palms.

Sex with Sari was not like anything he’d ever experienced.  It was always what he needed, she seemed to get off on that.  Some nights they stumbled into the bunker tearing at each other’s clothing, others were gradual.  Sitting on his couch with her hands wandering until she slipped into his lap.  More often than not it was wide smiles, tugging him behind her, swaying hips and cocked eyebrows.  Laughter, teasing, sex with Sari had just been and extension of spending time with her.

Still the first time he’d woken up in the bunker to the sounds of her and Seven in the other room he’d been conflicted.  He’d peeked out her bedroom door to see her hair spilling over the back of his sofa, she’d squealed when Seven popped up smirking, lips wet with her slick and dragging her down the couch. He’d torn himself away, sat in her bed listening to the sounds of them.

The creak of the springs in Seven’s old sofa, the rumbling purr of whatever Seven was saying to her between groans, her breathy sighs and soft responses, the wet slap of skin.  He’d been awake when she came back to the room, and embarrassed.  Not just at his jealousy but that he’d found the sound of them fucking at the end of the hall arousing.

She’d made him talk about it, stroked him through the flat sheet he’d pulled over his body and he’d gotten used to it.  She was happy to listen to him, to reward him for examining his own feelings. He wasn’t jealous as a lover, simply jealous that she had someone that loved her the way the Seven obviously did.

So on this night when he wakes up to the sounds of muffled voices and soft wet sounds he suspects she’s slipped out to see her redheaded beau.  He doesn’t roll over, simply tugs the blanket farther up his shoulder.  He’s almost asleep when he realizes there’s a voice he doesn’t quite recognize.  He jumps when her hand trails over his hip.

“You wanna see something really hot,” she whispers.

“You?” he chuckles, “Or do you have a mirror?”

She slaps at him and laughs.  “You know how Yungie dresses up sometimes?”

Zen groans, “If that’s a video of Seven in a fucking dress-”

“No, of course not baby,” she coos curling up behind them. He can hear the voices on the video crescendo, “but you did say that if Yoosung was a girl-”

“Babe,” he chokes, surprised she’d remembered some stupid comment from so long ago.

“I’m only saying,” her hand trails down his hip, nails teasing his thigh as he hears the video start over, “you weren’t wrong, he’s a very pretty girl.”

He’d had suspicions, that she’d added Yoosung to her little RFA harem. “What do you want to show me, Jagi?” He sighs.

She slips her arm under his head and holds the phone in front of him. “A sneak peak,” she says softly, breath hot across his ear.

He focuses on her phone as her hand explores his body. “Where’s Seven?” he wonders out loud.

“Work,” she says. “It doesn’t matter look how pretty my puppy is.”

Yoosung has his hair pinned back with one of Sari’s headbands, his eyes are delicately lined, his lips are a soft glossy pink.  Zen watches the little video on her phone, Yoosung closes his eyes, he presses his lips together and if Zen didn’t know him, well Sari was right, Yoosung made a very cute girl.

The camera pans out and Zen takes a sharp breath.  Yoosung is wearing one of Sari’s sun dresses, it sits askew over his chest, a lacy bra sticks out beneath it and Seven is nestled between his legs.  Long fingers pressing dimples into Yoosung’s thighs.  The flushed head of Yoosung’s cock peeks out of frilly pink panties.

“Isn’t he pretty,” she whispers, her hand grasps at Zen’s dick, her tongue laps at his ear and he keeps his eyes trained on her phone.  She steps into frame and he watches her tug the dress up over his shoulders, watches her and Seven lavish his blushing friend in affections.  Watching the way he bites at his lip while Sari’s lips close around Zen’s dick.

He’d cum along with Yoosung.

The three of them step into the event an hour late and Yoosung is in a gown, his hair pulled back with soft curls framing his face, his eyes lined and shimmering green as he glances around nervously. All Zen can think about is the pretty lace bra, the frilly pink panties, the way Yoosung had worried the lipstick off his lips as he tried to stifle his moans.  He blushes when Sari winks at him.

Seven stands tall between them, an arm over Yoosung’s shoulder and a possessive hand on Sari’s waist. “Brought your date,” he smirks giving Yoosung a little shove.

“What the fuck,” Zen says under his breath.

“I lost a b-bet,” Yoosung stammers, his cheeks are a pretty pink and Seven beams.

“But you’ve learned to control yourself better haven’t you, Pup?” Seven smirks pulling Sari close to him.

Yoosung’s blush deepens but he nods and smiles softly.  Sari leans forward and presses a kiss to Yoosung’s cheek and Zen is sure he hears her whisper  _ be a good puppy _ .

Zen finds it more than interesting how many people don’t recognize Yoosung like this, Seven hadn’t even given him a wig, there was no padding to his chest.  Zen was familiar with costuming techniques, had even played a woman once, nothing had been done to disguise Yoosung besides a standard beauty makeup.

Yoosung really was a pretty girl.

“Mr. Ryu, you don’t usually bring a date to these things,” a familiar voice calls and Zen stiffens.  He’d worked with this woman before.  She was pushy, aggressive and uncomfortably handsy.

He doesn’t even think before he tugs Yoosung closer to him, wraps an arm around him and smiles warmly at the woman, “Well she hasn’t exactly agreed to date me,” Zen says carefully, “so I’m going to be on my best behavior tonight.”

He finds it’s more than easy to smile warmly down at Yoosung in his pretty dress, with his pretty green eyelids shimmering in the lights.  The woman looks disappointed, wishes him luck and slinks away.  He finds he doesn’t want to let go of Yoosung, and when the smaller man doesn’t make to pull away he squeezes softly at his hip.

They stand together, Yoosung relaxing closer to him as the party moves on.  He says a quiet prayer that this is not an RFA party.  Zen can see, as he glances down at Yoosung, the edges of familiar lace beneath the bodice of his gown and he shifts his hips, wondering about frilly pink panties.

The party dies down and, as he normally does after these events, Zen falls in with the caterers.  He helps them clean up and Yoosung joins him.  They wave as their friends leave and Zen is struck at just how pretty his friend really is.  He tries to see the man beneath the dress but even though his mannerisms haven’t changed Yoosung still appears quite feminine.

Maybe he spent too much time with Sari.

There’s a crash and a yelp and Zen walks a little faster towards the room the caterers had been gathering their things in.  Yoosung is cringing, pushing himself off the floor and shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I broke anything I just  _ slipped _ .”

Zen chuckles warmly and watches Yoosung’s ankles turn, listens to him quietly curse the strappy shoes he’d obviously practiced walking in.  He pulls Yoosung’s arm around his shoulder and helps him into the big empty bathroom.  He helps Yoosung with the sandals and can’t help but run his hands along the curve of Yoosung’s calf.  “You’re wearing nylons?” he says softly.

Yoosung blushes but he doesn’t pull his leg away. “S-Sari said I should if I wouldn’t shave my legs.”

Zen laughs. “Does Seven?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I know she showed you the video,” Yoosung pouts.

Zen shrugs.  “You know what she’s like.”

Kneeling here in front of Yoosung, with a pretty flush blooming across his chest Zen considers his options.  He gives into Sari, gives in to confirming all her little nagging insinuations.  He reaches for Yoosung’s leg again, runs his hands up his calves to rest on top of his thighs.  He gathers the skirt of Yoosung’s gown as he goes and rubs circles into the satiny second sking while he waits to see if Yoosung will stop him.

Yoosung takes a shaky breath but he doesn’t move, except to grasp the counter behind him. “W-what about my ankle,” he stammers when Zen looks up at him.

“It’s fine, you rolled it but it’s not even swelling, you’ll be fine,  _ Pup _ .”

Yoosung’s ears turn pink, he inhales sharply and his pupils dilate.  Zen smirks, his lips curl in a wolfish grins and he stands, squeezing Yoosung’s thighs as he does.  He steps closer hands curling around the back of Yoosung’s thighs and he lifts him suddenly, a little squeak escaping pretty pink lips as Zen plops him down on the counter and steps in closer, tugging Yoosung’s legs with the hope that he’ll wrap them around Zen’s waist.

But Yoosung remains passive and Zen gives up, he rests his hands on the smaller man’s hips and leans in, slowly, ruby eyes locked with amethyst as he dares him to speak up, to tell him no, or urge him on.  Yoosung swallows, his lips part slightly and he drops his eyes when Zen licks his lips. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” he purrs, giving Yoosung one last chance to change his mind.  

“I know,” Yoosung says with a little huff. “Sari was right, you take too long.”

He doesn’t have time to ask, or argue or even laugh, Yoosung takes him by his lapels and crashes their lips together.  It’s all the encouragement Zen needs to press his tongue past Yoosung’s teeth to lap at the roof of his mouth.  He lets one hand press against the small of Yoosung’s back, pull him closer to the edge of the counter, to press their hips together.

Yoosung’s drops his jacket, her wraps his arms around Zen’s neck and without warning there’s a tug.  Zen lets his head roll back, breaking their kiss.  A thin strand of saliva keeping them connected as he lets out a moan. His hips roll against Yoosung involuntarily.  Yoosung chuckles and Zen realizes belatedly that perhaps he’d underestimated his friend. 

“Sari told me that too,” he growls in Zen’s ear and wraps his legs around the taller man’s waist.  He tugs at Zen’s ponytail again, and another keening moan echoes off the bathroom walls.

Yoosung is smirking at him as he leans forward to latch his lips to Zen’s throat and for a moment all Zen can do is watch himself in the mirror.  The way his hands twist in the fabric of Yoosung’s gown, the way his pupils dilate, garnet irises almost devoured by blackness.  He watches the way his mouth falls open as he whimpers under Yoosung’s ministrations.

Yoosung drops a hand to Zen’s waist, he brushes his jacket out of the way and palms him through the fabric of his tailored pants.  He barely has a moment to consider the way his cheeks flush, the way his lips swell from biting them but Yoosung drops his legs and slips off the counter to kneel in front of him.

He works fast, thick fingers tugging at the fly of Zen’s pants.  Zen barely has time to shrug out of his jacket before Yoosung has his pants shoved down his hips, sucking the tip of his dick between plush lips and Zen heaves forward to grasp at the counter.  He’d barely decided to do this, had honestly thought Yoosung would say no and now-

He ducks his head and growls as Yoosung swallows him, cheeks hollowing, tongue teasing as he hums happily along Zen’s length.  God, this is not what he’d expected.  Not blushing innocence and shy nods.  Zen had expected to play the teacher but here he was getting schooled.

He didn’t hate it.

He runs a hand through Yoosung’s hair pulling out bobby pins absently and setting them on his jacket.  He tries to focus on anything but how hot Yoosung’s mouth is on his cock. How good he is at this.  Tries not to wonder who the fuck taught him to suck dick like this.  Had it been Seven or Sari or had they already sent him off with someone else.  Why did he think that was hot?

Yoosung makes a low noise, as he feels his throat tighten around the tip, and then Yoosung is shoving him away, reaching into his top.  He giggles as Zen presses kisses to the top of his head and then there’s a rustling sound before Yoosung’s hands find his dick and there’s the familiar sensation of a condom being rolled along his length.

“H-hey,” he stammers finding his voice as Yoosung stands, pushing him softly away from the counter.  He watches Yoosung hike up his skirt and roll down the nylons.  There’s nothing really sexy about it, it’s not the way Sari would have put on a show. It’s simply Yoosung awkwardly pulling off the clingy nylons, muttering under his breath as he stumbles a little hopping on one foot.

Zen chuckles, it’s not sexy but it’s cute, and the awkward way he fumbles with the garment and his skirt makes Zen feel a little more confident.  A little more in control. 

It doesn’t last.  Yoosung tosses the nylons in the trash and tugs the skirt forward with a wry smile before turning around and bending forward.  He braces himself on the counter, cocks his hips and continues to smirk at Zen from the mirror.

“ _ God _ Yoosung,” Zen groans, he runs an appreciative hand over his ass.  He’d noticed his friend was cute, but how had he not noticed this.  Zen squeezes the perfect cheeks on display in front of him and curses baggy pants for hiding this work of art from him.  No frilly pink panties this time, Zen hooks his fingers in pink silk and drags them down.

Yoosung widens his stance, he keeps his ass cocked and Zen catches his eyes in the mirror.  A mischievous glint that reminds him a little too much of a certain redhead flickers in his lavender eyes and he wiggles his hips, drawing Zens gaze away from the mirror and back to his ass.

A red gem glitters between the cleavage of his ass and Zen sucks in a breath.  He tugs slowly at the plug, “ _ Yoosung _ ,” he whines leaning forward to rut against Yoosung’s ass, fucks him shallowly with the plug before finally working it out of him.  He presses a finger into the slick hole, and Yoosung whines.

“I’ve been wearing that all night,” he pouts, “so you wouldn’t have to do that.”

Zen chuckles as he presses back against his hand and, weak as he is, obliges him.  He presses his tip to Yoosung’s entrance and bites his lip at the easy slide.  Gasps when Yoosung presses himself back sheathing him completely. “J-Jesus Yoosung,” he whimpers, bracing his hand on the small of Yoosung’s back.

Yoosung only smiles at him in the mirror before he rolls his hips, pressing back against him and then pulling forward until Zen thinks he might slip out before slamming back.  He throws his head back and lets out a throaty groan before rocking forward on his forearms and pressing back again.

Zen keeps his hands on Yoosung’s hips, and lets him set a rhythm, snaps his hips to meet him as he pushes back, his pace unrelenting.  Zen alternates between watching the way his cock disappears into Yoosung’s tight ass and watching himself in the mirror, the way they both looked mostly clothed fucking in a swanky bathroom.  The way Yoosung throws his head back, the way his back arches.

It doesn’t take long for him to break.  He whines, grasps the counter and presses his face into Yoosung’s hair.  Tries to push him forward, trap him against the counter, slow him down.

“S-slow, hng, Yoosung slow, d-down,” he pleads

Yoosung only growls, adjusts and continues on, unyielding  in the space he’s given.

Zen gives in, pushes himself up and braces his hands on Yoosung’s shoulders, pushing him down against the counter as he mirrors the pace he’s set.  Yoosung lets out a breathy laugh muffled by the counter top as Zen grunts and adjusts himself.

The laugh is cut off by a moan.

“Hmm,” Zen hums gritting his teeth, “you like that?”

Yoosung turns his head, his cheek still pressed to the counter, his make up smeared, his lips puffy from biting them, “Hah, you’re s-so mng so g-good,” he groans.

“G-god Yoosung, you’re so fucking tight,” Zen continues, if he keeps talking maybe he’ll forget how good this feels, how fucking hot it is to fuck Yoosung in a public washroom, the caterers outside probably waiting on them so they can go.  Was it even soundproofed, could they be heard?

Yoosung’s pace falters, he curses, and whimpers as he tightens around Zen’s cock and beneath his hands the taut muscles of Yoosung’s shoulders relax, his hips slump and Zen realizes belatedly in his hubris Yoosung has already cum.  He shifts, presses a kiss to Yoosung’s shoulder and rights himself.

He takes Yoosung by the hips and watches his cock as it disappears between perfect cheeks, listens to the soft whimpers and sighs spilling from his friends pretty lips and catches his eyes in the mirror.  Pupils blown, mouth slack,  _ god _ Zen had done that to him.  Zen had fucked him so good he couldn’t form words.  

It’s not long before he follows his friend, jerking forward as he cums, curling into him and pressing his forehead to Yoosung’s neck and sloppy kisses to his shoulder.

“Heh,” Yoosung snorts slightly as they both come down from their orgasms and Zen pushes off his friend, “that was really good,  _ wow _ .”

“You sound surprised,” Zen chuckles.  

Yoosung shoves him and they both laugh as they fix their clothing.  Yoosung washing his hands and fixing his skirts. Zen adjusting himself and buttoning his pants.  He hands Yoosung his shoes and they both laugh again.

Zen sighs, he glances at Yoosung before he reaches for a door.  An itch he hadn’t realized he’d had, had been scratched and he smiles that Sari could see that in him.  It seemed unconventional friendships were going to always be a thing for him.

Yoosung stops him with a look. “You’re uh, Zen you’re not going to be weird about this right?”

Zen freezes. “Yoosung, I uh, I thought-”

“Because Sari said you would be ok a-and I’m not really-”

Zen chuckles. “Hard as it is I won’t fall in love with you Yoosung.”  He pulls the smaller man against him and presses a kiss to his forehead.  “You’re cute but you’re not  _ that _ cute.”

“H-hey,” Yoosung squeaks as they push the door open. “I have it on very good authority that I am  _ pretty  _ cu-”

They freeze.  The banquet room where the event had been held is pitch black.  Yoosung is quick to find the flashlight on his phone and Zen briefly wonders where he’d even  _ kept _ his phone.  They make their way to the small room where the caterers had been collecting their things but it’s dark and empty.  Yoosung snorts.

“They left us,” Zen whispers.

“The bathrooms are soundproof,” Yoosung says matter of factly. “They probably thought we left.”

“You’re sure,” Zen snorts, “you’re pretty loud.”

In the light of his phone Zen can see Yoosung blush and worry his lip, “S-Sari made me test it.”

The two of them laugh again.  Yoosung texts Seven and the two of the wait in the lobby for Seven and Sari to pick them up.  Zen watches the silver car speed away from the curb and wonders if Yoosung is going home or if his night had only just begun and he finds he doesn’t mind at all.


	5. Jaehee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess maybe a trigger warning for Jaehee being a bad/uninformed dom?

Jaehee watches Yoosung and remembers the first time she’d met Sari.  She remembers how quickly after everything that had happened Sari had changed.  It was understandable, after everything they’d been through that she had skipped the RFA meetings afterwards, kept her distance for a little while.  Jaehee understands, she’s seen V in his hospital bed, she’s heard about Luciel’s brother.  She gets it.

Then months had passed and Sari had moved in with Luciel. Months passed and the only people who’d met Sari had been Luciel and Luciel’s brother.  Sari had made plans with her, always enthusiastically, and then canceled them at the last minute.  It had been hard for Jaehee not to feel at least a little hurt by that.

The final straw had been when she’d used Saeran as an excuse.   _ He’s having a rough day I’m going to stay here with Yungie and try to help _ .  Except Saeran had started posting in the chatroom, not that Sari had been there lately.  Jaehee knew for a fact Luciel and Saeran had been out, having an uncharacteristically  _ good _ day.  Knew they were out of town for the next few days for some treatment of Saeran’s.

Had seen the photos of ice cream cones, and clouds shaped like cats on their drive to the facility.

So she’d excused herself for the day and taken a car across town.

Yoosung is sitting across the room from her now much like she’d found Sari that day, though arguably cleaner.

It had only taken her a few minutes to figure out Luciel’s ridiculous riddle at the gate, it had only served to fuel the anger welling up in her chest as she stormed into the bunker. She’d found Sari sitting contorted in an office chair, one leg tucked under her, chin resting on the knee of the other.  Her hair was pulled into a messy topknot, the tanktop she wore was covered in greasy hand prints, as were her sleep shorts.

She didn’t turn, didn’t know Jaehee was there.  Big black headphones covered her ears.  Her head bobbed slightly, her fingers tapped erratically against the desk.  It had only taken Jaehee a moment to realize the office she’s looking into is in the wrong place.  Momentarily distracted she wondered where Luciel had found the time to build a mirror of his own office with everything that had happened.

And it was a mirror, down to the empty bags of junk food and soda cans.  Just like Yoosung right now, sitting at Sari’s desk, headphones over his ears, greasy hair pinned out of his face.

Sari had been lost, Jaehee had started out angry but as the woman had turned towards her she could see how lost she was.  Jaehee never asked her to explain it and she’d continued being angry at first as she bullied the younger woman into Luciel’s small bathroom and insisted she shower. Brush her teeth, put on clean clothing.

She’d been decidedly less angry hours later when Sari had climbed into her lap and pressed her face into her neck.  She’s complained that everything was hard, and Jaehee had told her things were hard for everyone, to stop being a child.  

_ Unnie _ , she’d whimpered. Jaehee hadn’t been sure if it was the way she’d said it, with her hands stroking up and down her side and her lips brushing against Jaehee’s throat or the way she’d followed it up with an almost absent whine of  _ I wish you could just take care of me all the time _ .

“You have Luciel for that,” Jaehee had countered weakly, tilting her head to expose more of her neck for Sari’s lips.

_ Not right now _ .

“Noona,” Yoosung yelps at her, lips forming a little surprised ‘o’ when she tugs the headphones off of his head.  His cheeks pink as his brain catches up with his mouth.

Jaehee thinks of the Sari she knows now. The woman who sometimes shows up to their movie nights with ropes under her clothing. Ropes that Jaehee can tug on to create any number of lovely sounds.  She thinks of the Sari who had called her an hour ago and begged her to come to the bunker and check on Yoosung.

“I was supposed to meet him, we had plans but this meeting has turned into a fucking hostage situation and Saeyoung is at that retreat with Saeran until Sunday,  _ please Unnie _ .”

Jaehee is a sucker for Sari, a sucker for the way she calls her Unnie.

“I promised him I’d help him study.”

She can see the open book in front of him, the empty takeout box big enough for at least two people.  She can see the video game on the screen of Sari’s computer.

“Sari can not be here like she’d planned, it sounds like she might not be home until very late if at all. She asked me to check on you,” Jaehee frowns.

Yoosung pouts, “Why didn’t she call me?”

Jaehee’s frown deepens. “You were not answering your phone.”

She watches him fumble to get his phone out of his pocket, watches his eyebrows knit together.  She hears the low whine he makes. “I put it on mute instead of vibrate,” he mumbles.

“How long have you been here?” She asks before she can stop herself.

“A few days,” he shrugs lifting an empty soda can to his lips and pouting. “Sari left yesterday morning, Saeyoung and Saeran left the day before that,” he yawns. “S’closer to school.”  He turns back to his game.

“Yoosung Kim,” she growls.  His shoulders jump. “You are supposed to be studying.”

“I’m taking a  _ break _ ?” He lies.

“If you’re taking a break take a shower,” she snaps hitting the power button on the monitor.

“ _ Noona _ ,” Yoosung whines. But he pushes away from the desk and shuffles in the direction of the bathroom.

It wasn’t as though it was the first time Yoosung had called her Noona.  It wasn’t a common occurrence but it happened often enough that Jaehee knew it tended to slip out when he was tired or distracted.  She knows that,  _ unlike _ Sari, Yoosung used honorifics innocently.  Still she has to wonder if the blush rising to her cheeks is because of Sari, or because of Yoosung.

“You should see him,” Sari had sad one night a few weeks ago. “God he’s so good Jaehee.  You should try, he’s so good for us.”

Jaehee had always had very little interest in Yoosung, he seemed childish and naive but now she had Sari’s glowing praise to consider.

She frowns to herself and begins to pick up.  It was a habit, she didn’t like disorder she often found herself going through the bunker with a trash bag whenever she visited.  She suspects this is why Sari tends to plan visits at Jaehee’s apartment instead.

She should have known, really Yoosung had been staying at the bunker for days and he was here so often lately.  She should have expected.  Shouldn’t have behaved so familiar with Sari’s space.  Should definitely waited a beat before she turned at Yoosung’s startled squeak.

She’d only been looking for a clip or a hair band so that she could wash the dishes in the sink without her hair in her face.  Should have expected that Yoosung would come here after he showered.  _ Should not _ have let her gaze linger when Yoosung bent to pick up the towel he’d dropped on the floor while she’d been inside Sari’s closet.  He’d grabbed a backpack from the floor near the bed and scurried out of the room.

When was the last time she’d seen a naked man on purpose.

_ Unnie take care of him _ , Sari’s text had come through as she’d settled in the car she’d hired to bring her to the bunker.  Jaehee was well aware of what Sari was trying to orchestrate, well aware of what she’d already managed to pull off.  She wonders if Zen or Jumin had seen through it as she did.

She wasn’t going to rise to it, wasn’t going to let Sari dictate what she or Yoosung did with their time.

She isn’t going to play this well meaning game Sari has set up.  She can see the way the three of them fit together.  She can see Sari is just trying to let Yoosung garner a little experience.

Yoosung is sitting in front of the computer again when she turns around from the sink.  Headphones on, textbook forgotten in front of him, playing his game.

“Yoosung Kim,” she growls and he jumps, the chewed on pencil between his teeth falls to the floor.

The way he ducks his head, “Sorry, sorry! I forgot, sorry Noona,” he says.  He doesn’t even log out of the game like she’d seen Sari do, he just quickly close the window.

“Sit on the couch,” she says sternly.

He stands cautiously and Jaehee does not miss the way he tugs his shirt down before he turns. She tries not to think about the thick muscles of his arms, tries not to notice that shirt he’s wearing is obviously Sari’s and does not cover the way his erection bobs against his pajama bottoms.

She wouldn’t play Sari’s game, not by Sari’s rules at least. She dries her hands and makes her way gingerly across the bunker, keeps her face stern. The pencil is back between his teeth as he leans over his textbook.  She sits on the couch next to him, stretches her feet into his lap and watches.  He adjusts around the feet in his lap and she smirks to herself.

A dumb kid. Cute, well meaning, but ultimately naive. He’s probably been here playing games the whole time they were gone instead of studying. Predictable.

“Yoosung, did Sari ask you to study while she was gone?”

He swallows and she presses her foot hard against his cock. “Y-yes, yes I was supposed to study.”

Jaehee shakes her her head and holds a steady pressure with her foot against his dick, her heel pressing into his balls.  Pushes a little harder when she feels him try to roll his hips. “Have you?”

“No,” he says quietly hanging his head.  

Jaehee scoffs, but he’s been honest so she moves her feet out of his lap and swings them back to the floor. “Then I think you should now,” she growls, “I think you’re a bit of an idiot, prove me wrong.”

He presses his lips together and nods, slips his notebook out from under the textbook and starts taking notes as he skims through the chapters he has to cover.  Jaehee slips her hand into his lap, she palms at him through his pants rests her head against his shoulder.  “How have you even maintained your scholarship,” she whispers as she strokes him, “no wonder you don’t have a proper girlfriend.”

He whines, rolls his hips into her hands and she laughs.  Squeezes at him roughly.

When he finally flips to the page with practice quiz Jaehee snickers softly.  She likes the way he whines when she moves to stand, the way his body follows her slightly until she off the couch and moving away.  She goes to Sari’s room where she knows there’s a drawer full of toys and finds exactly what she’s looking for.

Yoosung is frowning into the open book when she comes back.

“Take off you pants.”

“W-what?”

“Hurry up.”

“Is that-”

“Hurry  _ up _ , Yoosung,” she says and she watches him swallow and stand, shoving his pants down his hips to pool around his ankles.

She looks at him, lets herself leer for effect but keeps her face passive, her mouth slightly downturned.  Yoosung is attractive when she looks at him like this.  His mouth is pretty, his cheeks still a little round, his stomach is soft but not round where his borrowed shirt rides up.  His legs are strong.  She lets her eyes wander over his dick as she sits back down,  _ average _ , she thinks. Maybe a little longer, definately thicker but still, average. 

She sets her prize on the table and watches Yoosung swallow as she pulls the book towards herself.

She scans the practice questions.

“What’s that for?” he asks softly.

She reaches for it, book perched on her lap, and slips the bottle of lube out of her pocket.  She holds the onahole in one hand, doesn’t look at him, and slicks the inside with lube.  “Even you are not that stupid,” she growls.

She hears the whistle of breath between his teeth.

She begins quizzing him, slips the onahole over his length when he answers correctly and continues while stroking him.  She’s watched Sari do this before.  Once.  To Zen.  She works him the way she’d seen Sari do, watches him try to resist fucking into it.

He groans, whines, pleads. “Pathetic,” she laughs and slips the toy off his cock when he gets one wrong.

“No-n-NO, I mean, I mean’t-”

“You got it wrong,” she hisses.

“I  _ didn’t _ ,” he argues, and she can see a bit of the brat Sari is in the way he says it. The way his eyes narrow even as they brim with tears.

“Wrong,” she frowns. “A stupid mistake.”

“But I  _ know the answer _ ,” he whines.

“Too little too late, like everything you do.”

He whimpers.

He gets three more questions wrong.

She tsks, and shakes her head. “Idiot,” she laughs.

She asks him the last question, and he gets it right so she replaces the toy and strokes him.

“Is there more?” She asks.

He shrugs, a few tears spill over his eyelids. “M-my n-notes.”

“Speak,” she snaps, his hips jerk forward, and a strangled moan is pulled from his lips.  She slaps him, quick and sharp across the face. “What about your notes.”

Yoosung gasps, he sinks onto the couch beside her, a great sob wracks his chest and buries his face in his hands, “ _ Red _ ,” he whimpers.

She sets the onahole aside and takes his notes from the table. “I don’t see any in red.”

“Red!” he says a little louder, “Red, r-red,  _ fucking red _ .”

She stops, and realizes she missing something.  Yoosung is crying, Sari cried sometimes too, but this was, “I don’t understand, what’s red?”

He’s hunched over, hair in his face sobbing into his hands.  Awful wet sounds that shake his shoulders. She watches him inhale a few times, watches him cringe when she rests her hand on his back.  He shakes his head no and she pulls it back.  Stands.  She walks to the kitchen and fills a glass with water.

Tries to think if this had ever happened with Sari.  They never really talked about things, she was always sure Sari would stop her, the other woman was just as capable physically.  She’d never heard Sari say red before, never had her stop.  She holds out the glass, stands awkwardly in front of Yoosung and frowns at him.

“D-did I do something wrong?” She asks.

He takes the glass from her and sips at it slowly. “You w-were  _ mean _ ,” he says with a sniffle.

“I thought-” she starts and shakes her head, “that’s what I do?”

Yoosung relaxes a little, small sobs and sniffles still spilling out of him as he leans against the back of the couch. “I thought,” he starts pausing for a moment and she thinks he might be making fun of her until he continues, “you didn’t  _ ask _ .” he says. “Jumin, and Sari, and Seven they all  _ asked _ first.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she frowns, tries not to pout.

“I figured Sari told you,” he frowns along with her, “she told Zen so I thought-” he lets the words trail off.

She sits beside him and lets him rest his head in her lap.  She hadn’t considered there was more to any of this than she was used to.  Sari liked it when she was mean, when she told her what to do and criticized her. She liked it when Jaehee slapped her for talking back.  Sari egged her on.

She cards her fingers through Yoosung’s soft hair while he sniffles in her lap.

“What _ do _ you like?” She asks.  Curious now.

“Being good,” he says with a pout. “Doing what I’m told and being praised,” he mumbles and she can see the pink spread from his neck to his ears. “Rough is okay but I don’t,” another sob rattles him, “don’t call me names ok?”

It’s quite for a while, the soft electronic hum of the bunker is almost soothing as she pets Yoosung’s hair.  His fingers toy with the edge of her skirt absently.  He picks at stray threads as his breathing steadies.

“We can,” he stops. “If you want we can keep going.”

She feels bad, guilty.  She liked being in charge, being on top.  Liked telling Sari what to do.  “I don’t want to sleep with you,” she says.

“Oh uh, ok,” Yoosung nods.

“As long as you’re not expecting that,” she continues, “I think I’d like to continue.”

Yoosung nods.

She doesn’t want to sleep with Yoosung but she’d like to try this, to try to be softer to figure out exactly how this works.  Yoosung sounded  _ good _ and she could always call Sari when she left, or wait for her to get home.  She owed the other woman something for dragging her into this but leaving her in the dark.  Setting her loose on Yoosung without understanding what she was really doing.

Yoosung slips off the couch and kneels between her feet. “What do you want me to do Noona?”

She smirks and runs her fingers through his hair.  His eyes are still wet and red rimmed, his nose is runny and red. She shakes her head. “Go clean yourself up and then come see me.”

He does as he’s told, quickly pushing himself up to stand and almost tripping over the pants still hanging from one ankle. She laughs a little but soon he’s back, face clean and dry, eyes a little puffy.  He knees back down between her feet so quickly she cringes at the sound his knees make connecting with the hard floor.

He smiles at her, hands in his lap and she can understand why Sari calls him a puppy.

“Noona?”

“You should take your shirt off Yoosung, no point in that is there?”

“Y-yes,” he nods eagerly and tugs the shirt over his head.

“You know that was Sari’s tshirt?” She smiles.

“O-oh?” he blushes and she realizes that,  _ yes _ he did.

“It’s alright, it’s cute,” she says, trying to be softer, trying to make up for before.

He dips his head but she can see him smile wider as she runs her hand through his hair. “Was that all you had to study?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I left it too long, I should have done it before, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“I swear I know it,” he insists, big eyes begging, “you j-just made me nervous.”

“It’s alright,” she coos, “that was the point.” Her thumb strokes his jaw and he leans his head into her hand, eyes fluttering shut.

“It  _ was _ ?” he asks.

His lips are soft, his mouth is sweet.  Sari talked about it a lot.  Jaehee had always been a little jealous, both Luciel and Yoosung had such pretty mouths. Both had such pretty lips, thick where hers were thin, sweet and upturned where hers were sour, always frowning unless she actively forced herself to smile.

“Yes,” she says softly as he nuzzles her palm. “I wanted you to squirm and you did. You did.  You were good, I was pleased.”

“Oh,” his eyes open for a moment and search her face, as though it’s very important that she’s being honest with him. So she smiles at him and rubs her thumb along his chin to tilt his head up.

She leans forward, “I think I should reward you for it.”

His eyes drift closed again, “ _ Please _ ,” he says softly as she presses her lips against his.

It’s  _ lackluster _ for a moment.  Sari had all but bragged up Yoosung as some kind of protege with his mouth and yet here he was, lips pressed against hers and it was simply  _ kissing _ . Nothing more or less than she had done a number of times before.

She almost stops, almost moves on, finds something else when his lips part, his tongue teases tentatively along her lower lip and she remembers. She’s in charge, she was supposed to lead this kiss.  Everything about Yoosung Kim and this situation was different than she was accustomed to.  Sari’s whole game was talking back, being a brat, pushing the boundaries Jaehee set and being punished. To take more than she was given.

Yoosung wanted rules to follow, he wanted to be rewarded, he wanted only what Jaehee offered and he would have accepted that pitiful excuse for a kiss as a reward.

She kisses him harder, slides her tongue against his and tangles her fingers in his hair, pulling his head back and swallows his groan. His tongue laps at the roof of her mouth, traces along teeth and when she pulls back he captures her tongue between his lips and sucks.

“Can I touch you?”

The question catches her off guard and the hand cupping his cheek drops to the couch. “Yoosung I said-”

“You said no  _ sex _ ,” he says softly, “not-”

“Oh,” she inhales, regains her composure. “You’ll have to earn it.”

He frowns, settles on his heels and cocks his head to the side, “How?”

She leans forward and collects his things off the table, she sets them beside her on the couch and then gets the onahole and hands it to Yoosung, he frowns. 

“Let’s try this again,” she nods at him.

“With this?” he asks, frown deepening.

She leans forward and takes his hands, guides them to hold the toy, then she freezes.  She enjoyed this.  It was softer than she was used to but she liked the way Yoosung responded,  _ but _ she didn’t really want to touch him, her curiosity about kissing him sated she prefered not to touch him directly.  If he wanted to touch her, well she would see.

“Are you still,” she says softly, “are you hard Yoosung?”

“ _ Kind of _ ,” he whispers, cheeks pink.

She holds his hands over the toy and guides him into it. “Good boy,” she says, letting go and petting him on the head.  “Why don’t you show me how to use that huh?  While I look over your notes?”

Yoosung swallows and nods his head.

She hooks one finger under his chin and narrows her eyes on him. “You can’t cum Yoosung, not until I say you can do you understand?”

He nods again.

“There will be consequences if you do.”

“I promise, Noona, I’ll be good, I promise.”

She smiles and tousles his hair.  She watches him while she skims his notes. He starts out resting back on his heels, one hand hovers over her knee, his bottom lip caught between his teeth while he considers before letting it rest on his own thigh.  His eyebrows knit together as he strokes himself, blushing deep red from the tips of his ears down his chest.  Two, three, four strokes and he’s whimpering softly, chewing his lips.  His eyes squeeze shut and he whines as he fucks into the toy, she smiles.

She asks him the first question and he stops.

“Keep playing pet,” she coos, “you only have to stop if you get it wrong.”

He swallows, stammers when he answers.  She pets his head and tells him,  _ good job _ .  She alternates between the practice quiz and questions she’s formed from his notes.  She gets through almost all of them before he gets one wrong.

He’s bent over, pressed his forehead into her thigh, fucking into the toy and whining his way through answering her questions.  She likes watching the muscles of his arms work, likes the way his spine curves, the way his voice breaks when he tries not to cry out while he answers.  Likes the way his breath ghosts across her thighs.

“Are you sure.”

He knows he’s gotten it wrong and he stops. “I, uh, no?”

She runs fingers through his hair as he tilts his head up, repeats the questions and purses her lips.  

He frowns, brows knitting together in concentration. Yoosung settles back on his heels, toy still sitting awkwardly on his cock but hands resting on his thighs so she can see he’s following the rules.

“I don’t know,” he whimpers.

She can see the teas forming in the corners of his eyes and she brushes her thumb over his cheekbones as she tells him the right answer. 

His shoulders drop, “I should have known that one,” he frowns.

“It’s alright,” she coos, “It’s fine, let’s try another.”

He only gets two more wrong, they only find one more he can’t properly answer on a second chance and by the time they finished she’s watched him push himself to his, very obvious, edge four times.  She’s had to chastise him twice for touching her. One hand slipping up beneath her skirt to squeeze at her thighs.  She’s had to tug roughly on his ear twice as he edged himself and sunk his teeth into her thigh to stifle his moans.

She thinks she understands now what Sari might see in him.

With big lavender eyes staring up at her from between her knees she thinks she can see the appeal.  The way he pants and bites his lip before he asks, “Did I, did I do well?”

“Very well,” she says.

“Can I touch you now?” He asks so quietly she almost can’t hear him.

She nods.

“I,” he hesitates, “Noona can I- am I allowed to-” he trails off blushing.

She watches to see if he’ll continue.  She runs her fingers through his hair and smiles at him as softly as she can muster.

“I want to,” he starts and his hands slip under her skirt.  He leans forward as he pushes the fabric up her thighs, “Noona, if it’s ok, I want to-”

“It’s fine,” she breaths. “But you can’t stop playing with yourself and you can’t cum until I tell you.”

He nods and licks his lips. “Thank you, Noona,” he breaths, breath hot across her thighs as he tugs her hips towards him and guides her legs over his shoulders.

He wastes no time, presses his face to her panties and kisses her clit through the thin fabric and Jaehee moans, low and loud. Her head falling back against the cushions of her friend and occasional lovers sofa.  She moans and she rolls her hips against the face of a boy she’d made cry less than an hour before.

He traces her slit through thin fabric with his tongue, prods at her experimentally with his fingers as he turns his head to kiss and nip along her thighs and she lets herself groan.  She can feel the movement of his shoulder beneath her knee as he works himself and she lets her hips roll against him again as she sighs.

His fingers hook in the fabric of her panties as he tugs them aside, “Is this o-ok, Noona?”

“Yes,” she pants, “yes it’s fine, yes.”

Then his mouth is on her properly. He laps at her folds, hums as he sucks her clit between his lips. Two thick fingers slip inside her as he works her with his tongue, curling until they find what he’s looking for and she cries out, her back arching of the couch.  Yoosung Kim is smiling at her from between her thighs, mouth buried in her pussy his eyes are smug, his pupils blown.

She twists her fingers in his hair and tugs.  His moan reverberates through her entire body and she echos it with her own.  She’s so close, she can feel the tight pull of her orgasm tugging low in her pelvis as he works her until suddenly he stops.

Forehead pressed tight against her thigh his eyes flit to her face and he begs, “Noona  _ please _ , I’m so close Noona, please can I? Can I cum?”

She sighs, tries not to cluck her tongue or frown, as she lets her fingers loosen, and smooths out his hair before guiding his face back to her mound. “Can you keep going while you do?” she asks as his lips find her clit.

She can feel the soft puff of air he exhales through his nose before he nods.

“Go ahead,” she says, “you’ve been so good for me Yoosung, go ahead.”

He’s sloppy as he works her, panting and whining, his fingers stuttering unevenly as he moans into her folds but it’s enough.  Her fingers knot in his hair and she rocks herself against his face until her cries drown out his whimpers.

They stay like that a while.  Yoosung with his cheeks resting against her thigh, his eyes closed, his pretty mouth slack.  She moves him gently, pulls him up beside her on the couch before she finds her way on shaky legs to the little washroom to clean herself off.  

Sari may not have taught her much about this but she had taught her one thing, aftercare.  So she turns the water to the bathtub on.  Pulls the bubble bath and lavender oil out from under the sink and draws him a bath.

When she’s satisfied she goes back to the living room and pulls him up, wordlessly, from the sofa.  Helps him into the tub.  His cheek is still slightly red from where she’d slapped him and she feels a knot of guilt for a moment until he smiles sleepily at her from inside a cloud of bubbles.  She excuses herself, makes him a hot chocolate and brings it with him to the bathroom.

“Are you ok like this?” she asks, “would you like me to stay.”

He yawns and smiles at her. “M’fine, you can go if you want. Thank you.”

She stays a little longer, pets his hair once before she leaves the room.  She picks up once more. Lays Yoosung’s pants and Sari’s shirt over the back of the couch.  Puts his notes and his textbook together in a neat pile on the coffee table.  She puts the dishes she’d washed earlier away and looks over the bunker.  

As she leaves she has one thought, she suspects very soon her time with Sari will be spent differently and she’s ok with that.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung scores top of the class on his test but he ends up jerking off in the bathroom as soon as he's finished it.


End file.
